


with nothing but your t-shirt on

by crybaby



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Also unnegotiated subspace !, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Fingering, Fluff, M/M, Subspace, Vibrators, camboy!harry, i wonder what my reverend would think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:11:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crybaby/pseuds/crybaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/><i>Louis knows that </i>I’ve seen you fuck yourself with a vibrator<i> should not be the first thing that comes to mind when he meets Harry Styles.</i></p>
  <p>(Harry is a camboy and Louis has been an avid subscriber for a while before he finds out they attend the same university)</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [with nothing but your t-shirt on](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7175630) by [crouton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crouton/pseuds/crouton)



> this is a hideous monster that dragged me through the mud. 
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](http://schoolgirlharry.tumblr.com/) if you want <3
> 
> title taken from The 1975's The City
> 
>    
> [spectacular fanart](http://bubblegumgaybitch.tumblr.com/post/79264964507/for-all-the-bottom-sub-sugarbaby-slutty)
> 
>  
> 
> **[read in french](http://camboyharry.skyrock.com/) ♡[read in portuguese](http://www.wattpad.com/story/28299528-with-nothing-but-your-t-shirt-on-portugu%C3%AAs)**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ****DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything or anyone****

The first time Louis talks to Harry Styles, he’s so focussed on replying to Liam’s message about the fact that he wasn’t the one who finished the emergency condoms, that he gets a fright when someone coughs to get his attention and he looks up with wide eyes, before he gawps.

 

Louis knows that _I’ve seen you fuck yourself with a vibrator_ should not be the first thing that comes to mind when Louis first meets Harry Styles.

 

And it’s probably that reason that Harry Styles probably thinks he’s a bit off in his head, because instead of answering him with a simple yes when he comes up to Louis and asks: ‘Is this Intro to Psychology?’, Louis frowns at him, before his eyes widen and he stares.

 

Louis’ fingers rest against the keys of his mobile as he tries to compose himself, but.

 

The boy standing in front of him, in a baggy long-sleeve with a satchel resting against his hip and tired eyes and shower soft hair is undoubtedly the very same boy who Louis had watched come all over himself while wearing nothing but a lace bra not two days before.

 

Louis’ mind struggles to wrap around the fact that _cumwhoreharry_ is standing in front of him, because there’s no way it isn’t him. Maybe, it could have been some other startlingly pretty boy, if it weren’t for his voice. Because Louis knows that voice, has heard that voice in his dreams, has played it through his mind when he comes.

 

Harry laughs nervously, and Louis feels his palms sweat. ‘You alright?’ he asks, the same gravelly voice. Louis has imagined asking Harry the same thing after fucking him into headspace and caring for him until he’s safely out far too many times.

 

Louis nods lamely before he manages to gather control of himself, slipping his phone into his pocket, leaving Liam’s message unanswered as he opens his mouth to speak.

 

‘Yeah, yeah it is.’ He croaks, and Harry gives him a grateful little smile before raising his hand to give him something between a salute and a wave, and god, Louis has seen him stuff all four of those elegant fingers inside himself before circling those of his other hand around his cock. Louis is not fine.

 

 

 

 

When Louis gets home, his laptop is still charging on his cluttered desk, open with dust across the keyboard and over the screen. He steels himself in the doorway, adamant about not doing what he would normally.

 

There’s only a handful of times where Louis has the flat to himself, but the most definite is Tuesdays and Thursdays when he gets back from class.

 

While Liam and Niall are both aware of his obsession and they’ve probably heard more than they would ever admit, Louis likes to watch his Harry videos when he’s alone so that he can play them loud and listen to his whimpers through his speakers, rather than when he watches his livestreams with earphones and waits until after they’ve finished before he lets himself wank off, because then he can focus on not making too much noise out of common courtesy.

 

It’s Thursday, so there’s still the new video from Wednesday evening sitting in his email, and normally Louis would settle down on his bed and watch the new ‘Hump Day Video’, but now he stands and stares at his laptop.

 

It’s weird now, because now he’s met him. Maybe not properly, but he’s still met him, was in his vicinity. He got to stare at the back of his head for the entire hour twenty minutes of his lecture, and he managed to not take in a shred of information because he was too torn between freaking out because of who was in front of him, and getting hard because of who was in front of him.

 

He crosses the room to his laptop in a moment of weakness, because in Harry’s livestream of Sunday, he’d said that the video would be a good one, and Louis had been waiting patiently.

 

So he sits down at his unsteady chair and chews on his fingernail. On one hand, if Louis stops subscribing and doesn’t pay next month, he can slowly forget all the things he’s seen and maybe try and speak to Harry again and then maybe build up to asking him out and getting to discover all the sounds he’s already heard the proper way. And on the other hand, Louis can watch the video and tell himself he’s going to stop, but never will and get stuck feeling awed and guilty every time he sees the boy, and therefore never approach him again and let the opportunity slip through his fingers.

 

In the end, Harry was right. The video is a good one. Louis comes hard with Harry’s kittenish moans streaming through his speakers as he rides a thick dildo, wearing nothing but little cat ears clipped into his hair.

 

 

 

 

Louis hopes that maybe it was a once off, that maybe he was lost and come Monday, he won’t be there anymore.

 

But of course that doesn’t happen, and when he arrives, Harry’s seated in the same place, and Louis sits down behind him once again, pricks his ears to listen to the sleepy lull of his voice as he tells the boy sitting next to him about how and why he swapped courses.

 

The thing is, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Harry was the slutty minx that he plays up when he’s _cumwhoreharry_ , but from what Louis can tell, he’s a soft sweetheart. But Louis’ probably wrong, and it would probably be worse if Harry were as slutty as he portrayed.

 

He tells himself that he’s going to focus, that he’s not going to get distracted by the way Harry’s hair swirls at the back of his head, or think about the Sunday livestream he had talked himself into watching, because Sundays are one of Harry’s fully-clothed days, so Louis had convinced himself it wasn’t as bad as watching a Friday one.

 

He doesn’t focus at all, in the end, because Harry makes to pull off his jumper and his t-shirt goes with it, giving Louis a full view to his bare back before Harry realises and pulls it down.

 

But of course by then it’s too late, and Louis’ mind is already running fast to create the visual image of Harry beneath him, fingers curled into the sheets as Louis strokes up the soft skin of his back, dragging his fingers down his spine before spreading him open and eating him out.

 

He leaves holding his textbooks in front of his crotch, embarrassingly hard in his baggy joggers.

 

 

 

 

Louis refuses to let it bother him. Refuses.

 

He gets home and Niall’s gone off and Liam’s left it tidy and he really doesn’t think he should be alone when he’s got something so momentous in his hands.

 

So he gets himself a beer from the fridge and flicks on the television, toeing off his shoes and resting his feet on the coffee table. But after he goes through the channels and concludes that everything on is shit, he’s left alone with Big Bang Theory reruns and his thoughts which slowly creep to what he’s seen on his laptop.

 

He doesn’t know why he’s making such a big deal. If Harry Styles wants to spend his evenings in front of a webcam for cougars and old men to watch, that’s his own business. Louis has never been one to obsess over sex lives that aren’t his own.

 

 

But Louis has this weird feeling in his tummy when he thinks about it, the one he used to get when he was little and ate so many gummy worms he thought they were wriggling around in his stomach.

 

And he doesn’t know what it is. It’s something mixed with unease mixed shock mixed with guilt mixed with lust, and it leaves him with his fingers tapping against his thigh until he breaks and reaches for his laptop on the coffee table, pushing Niall’s assignment off the lid and onto the carpet.

 

After what feels like a lifetime for his laptop to spark to his home-screen, he’s double, triple, quadruple clicking the little Chrome icon.

 

Once incognito, he skims down his bookmarks for the naughty page title, a sense of recognition in his stomach at the URL.

 

And it’s still the same page. There’s still a photograph of Harry at the top of the page, chin cupped in his hands as he lies on his stomach with his ankles crossed. He’s still only wearing little pink briefs in the photograph, perfectly photoshopped to match the bubblegum pink of the background.

 

And it’s still the same page and the button is flashing rhythmically, a sweet pink that flashes brighter and reads: _I’m Live!_

 

 

Oh god.

 

Louis drags down the volume bar at the corner of his screen before he clicks on the button. It loads a new screen, blank but for two buttons. The pink one reads: _Watch Here!_ And the black one: _Watch at Boyztube!_

 

Louis clicks the second one, being taken to a page but having the loading video box be blocked with a pop-up that asks for his member ID. Louis types in the one he’d created at Boyztube, typing in his email and fake name for his password and clicking enter.

 

At last minute, he scrambles for one of Niall’s socks that’s dirty and scrunched up underneath the coffee table, pinching it between his fingers and laying it over his webcam. Just in case.

 

Harry’s already standing in front of the camera, naked but for thigh highs, as he drags his hands up his smooth thighs and over his tummy, before pinching at the rosy peaks of his nipples, his cock arched toward his soft belly.

 

 

 

 

The second time Louis talks to Harry Styles, Louis has his head down to hide his shame and isn’t looking where he’s going.

 

He’d managed to go four days without watching anything of Harry’s, but he cracked when he woke up Saturday morning with his cock made of wood after a vivid dream of Harry riding him in one of his dress shirts.

 

He feels disappointed and ashamed as he steps onto campus for his study date with Stella, denim jacket heavy on his shoulders as he trudges over crunched up, dead leaves, ear buds in.

 

He’s so lost in his mind that it comes as an utter fright when he turns the corner and walks right into somebody, right before his chest is burning with fire.

 

He jumps back and pulls an ear bud out as he looks down at his chest, a large splotch gone see-through over the larger part of his chest and stomach. His skin burns as he pinches at the fabric and pulls it from his skin, gritting his teeth.

 

He’s ready to shout at whoever just spilt whatever over him, but when he looks up, of course he sees Harry Styles pulling his own earphones out, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

 

‘Shit,’ Harry rushes, voice high like when he’s about to come, ‘I’m so sorry!’

 

Had it been anyone else, Louis would have probably raised his voice a bit before storming off. Except it’s the boy who Louis’ been enamoured with ever since MFC announced their partnership with a new brothering channel and he saw Harry’s profile as the top result when he’d searched ‘twinks’.

 

‘It’s, uh,’ Louis starts, pinching at the wet fabric as he tries to ignore the sting of it, ‘It’s fine.’

 

Harry stuffs his earphones into his pocket before he runs his fingers through his hair. The tip of his nose is red and his cheeks rosy, and Louis’ tummy twists because not for the first time, he thinks about holding Harry’s hand and kissing him sweetly, rather than fucking him against the wall or bent over a desk. He looks adorable in his tight jeans and his hunter green parka.

 

‘No it’s not, you’re soaked!’ Harry exclaims, before he drags his lower lip between his teeth. ‘Shit. Um, my room is in Abbotts, so if you come with me I can give you another shirt?’

 

Louis’ already running late and Stella’s going to be pissed, but he finds himself nodding.

 

Harry nods along and bends down to pick up his now empty take-away cup so he can chuck it in the bin.

 

 

 

 

Harry has a single, and Louis’ sure he must have requested that. He can’t imagine trying to be a successful camboy while living with a roommate.

 

That also means his room is tiny, a single pushed up against the wall and his desk opposite. It’s about half the size of Louis’ room. Harry leaves him in the doorway before he’s crossing to his cupboard, pulling it open and digging through neat piles as Louis looks around his room.

 

It looks normal enough, but Louis spies his camera on his desk, beside his Mac, and he thinks he should not be so familiar with this room. He should not know the sheets because he’d seen Harry lying back against them as he’d fondled his cock through the sheer fabric of baby blue panties.

 

He wonders where Harry keeps his toys.

 

He’s got a good view out onto the courtyard, but Louis knows this, because it had been just under a week ago when Harry had posted a picture of himself sitting naked on the window sill with the courtyard in the background, fairy lights hanging down beside him.

 

Harry clears his throat softly, and Louis turns around, only to be presented with a soft looking white t-shirt.

 

‘The bathroom’s communal if you don’t want to change here,’ Harry offers, his voice small.

 

Louis shakes his head, desperate not to look back at his bed when he sees the plastic lid of the lube he’s seen Harry use in his videos peeking out from under his pillow.

 

‘Nah, s’fine.’ Louis tells him, and Harry turns away and back to his cupboard when Louis shrugs off his jacket, pulling his shirt over his head. His fingers are shaking, and he refuses to let his mind imagine a situation where he’s getting undressed to pull Harry down onto the single bed and kiss him until his lips are swollen, finger him open and fuck him slowly.

 

Harry looks away, but Louis’ almost certain he sees Harry look at him, right from the corner of his eye, before he pulls on his shirt.

 

It’s buttery soft against his skin, the neckline low. It smells boyish and clean, and Louis wants to burrow into Harry and keep him forever, if only to keep the smell that clings to his top.

 

Louis doesn’t know what’s scarier; the fact that he wants to fuck Harry until he’s crying and whimpering and coming all over himself, or that he wants to pet him and kiss him until he falls asleep in his arms afterward.

 

Harry bundles up Louis’ damp shirt in his hands with the promise to wash it and find a way to return it to him, before Louis tells him that they take Psychology together and recognition dawns on Harry’s pretty features.

 

Louis hovers at his door, buttoning up the last two buttons on his jacket as Harry stutters over his last apologies, but Louis waves them off and wonders if it’s too forward to ask Harry out this early.

 

Harry pulls the door open for him, leaning in against the doorframe as Louis stuffs his hands into his pockets.

 

‘I’m really sorry, by the way.’ Harry blushes, his shy smile awfully genuine.

 

Louis shakes his head and looks down at his feet before he runs his fingers through his hair. ‘It’s really fine, no harm done.’

 

Harry shakes his head before he stretches out his hand to Louis.

 

‘I’m Harry, by the way,’ he introduces, and then Louis remembers that he shouldn’t know his name, and he realizes that this whole time, he could have been calling him Harry when it was just a stage name.

 

Louis shakes his hand firmly and frowns slightly when Harry doesn’t let go of his hand and giggles softly.

 

‘You know, that’s when you’re meant to introduce yourself?’ Harry teases gently, squeezing his palm.

 

Louis shakes his head and he feels his cheeks burn with fire almost instantly. ‘Right, yeah, sorry. M’Louis.’

 

‘Lovely to meet you, Louis.’

 

 

 

 

The third time Louis talks to Harry Styles is Tuesday, when he’s already settled into his seat and is scrolling through his phone as he waits for his laptop to start up.

 

He looks up at the sound of a thud and sees Harry stop from where he’s approaching his seat, the row in front of Louis’, to apologize and pick up a shaggy-haired boy’s bag that he’d knocked off the table. Louis watches the annoyance drain from the boy’s face as Harry gives him his smile of the sun before he’s carrying on and looking up, almost towards Louis.

 

Louis locks his phone and focuses on the way that Harry’s waddling slightly, hips swaying in his tight jeans. Louis had watched him set his glittery pink dildo down on his desk chair and sink down onto it the night before, bare but for a flimsy white t-shirt that looked near identical to the one he’d leant to Louis and that showed off the hard press of his nipples as he’d wriggled around and tried to avoid touching himself.

 

Harry smiles and sets what Louis recognizes as his top down beside his laptop, neatly folded. ‘I really am so sorry,’ he starts, and Louis tries to cut in, but Harry raises his hand to cut him off and shakes his head. ‘I think I managed to get the stain of it out, but if it bugs you I’ll get you another one?’

 

When Louis frowns, it’s a lot fonder than he’d care to admit. ‘It’s really fine, it was my fault anyway.’

 

Harry looks ready to protest before Doctor Carter walks in and effectively silences Harry into sitting down quickly in his seat. Louis stuffs his freshly washed top into his laptop bag and tries very hard to focus.

 

But he still ends up thinking about kissing the back of Harry’s neck as he takes him from behind, about tugging on Harry’s cock slowly until he’s shivering with his orgasm.

 

 

 

 

His shirt smells like Harry’s had, and Louis wears it when he watches his livestream that evening.

 

Harry’s just idly fingering himself, lying on his side and propped up on two pillows, reading the comments as his arm works behind himself, one leg up so that Louis can see his fingers moving before they dip inside him.

 

Louis tucks his nose into the neckline and breathes it in as Harry laughs at something he’s read, right before it’s cut off with a moan and his eyelashes flutter. Louis watches his cock twitch, precome dripping slowly from the head and down onto his bedding.

 

Louis can hear Liam outside his door, and he knows he shouldn’t, but he flicks up the volume so that it’s louder through his earphones and he pushes down the waistband of his jogging bottoms, so his hand can reach under his waistband and he can curl his fingers around himself and draw his cock out against his tummy.

 

Harry wraps his own hand around his cock and strokes lazily, and before Louis can think better, he types into the little chat box: no touching.

 

Harry’s eyes focus back onto the screen seconds later, and his eyes skim lazily as he thumbs at his tip, drawing his foreskin back and squeezing out another fat bead of precome as his arm flexes behind himself.

 

His eyes widen minutely before his hand falls away from his cock and he’s laughing softly, grainy through the feed.

 

‘What else then, Tommo the Tank Engine?’ Harry purrs, fluttering his eyelashes at the camera, and Louis’ heart thumps.

 

Louis rests his fingers over his keyboard and thinks out a reply. Harry draws his fingers from himself and rests his chin on the back of his hand.

 

‘I’m waiting,’ he drawls, rolling onto his front and pushing his bum up.

 

Louis gulps as he types out: hump the bed.

 

Harry smiles when he reads it, biting his lip slowly before he rests his body down, face against the pillow as he shuffles closer to the wall so that the webcam picks up more of him. Louis watches as his hips start to shift in small rocking motions.

 

A soft moan comes from Harry as he ruts against the mattress slowly, his fingers flexing as he arches his back before grinding his hips down.

 

Louis wants to be between his thighs, holding them open and lapping at him as he grinds against the sheets. He wants to be there after he comes, when he’s sleepy and trembling.

 

Harry’s arms tense, muscles bulging as his hips pick up pace and he’s grinding harder, faster. He gets steadily louder, slow moans turning louder and ending in weak whimpers as his hips snap and his muscles shift beneath his skin.

 

His head turns against the pillow so that his cheek rests against it and he’s looking into the camera as he rabbits against his duvet, his mouth open as high little sounds spill out.

 

Louis fists his cock in time with Harry’s messy hips, his tummy tightening as he watches Harry’s eyes squeeze shut and his mouth form a pretty O as he shudders throughout his body.

 

Louis comes when Harry’s hips stutter against the mattress. Louis inhales the scent of him from his shirt as Harry mewls in his ears.

 

 

 

 

‘You really don’t have the money to keep this obsession going, Lou,’ Liam sighs as he pulls his wallet from his back pocket.

 

Louis knows this. He knows that he doesn’t have enough money to throw it at pretty boys with high quality webcams, but he can’t not when it comes to Harry.

 

It wouldn’t be so bad if Louis managed to stick to just paying the subscriber fee, because that’s easy, but he can’t stop himself from donating because it makes Harry get that pretty smile. And then there’s also the fact that Harry had put a link to his wishlist on his blog, promising to send a photo with the item purchased when it costs over two pounds and a video when it costs over ten.

 

Liam sighs when he gives him train fare, and Louis hooks his arm around his neck and kisses the top of his head, promising he’ll make supper if Niall goes out.

 

 

 

 

The fourth time Louis speaks to Harry Styles, it’s because Harry needs a pen. Louis doesn’t have one, so he shrugs and watches as Harry asks the person sitting in front of him.

 

 

 

 

The fifth time Louis speaks to Harry Styles, he’s standing in line in a small coffee shop because the temperatures are dropping quickly and he’s freezing from his inner core, and out.

 

He still has twenty seven minutes until he has class, so he orders his vanilla chai in a ceramic mug and tacks on a biscuit at second thought, before he surveys the cosy room and looks for a place to sit.

 

He groans at the realisation that there’s nowhere left for him to sit, and that all the tables are occupied.

 

 

He spots the all-too-familiar back of someone’s head, and of course he has that sort of luck. Because of course Harry Styles would be there when he needs somewhere to sit. Because the thing is, Louis’ discovered, that Harry is very friendly. The only problem is that whenever Louis sees him, all he can think about is his guilt over the fact that he’s seen him naked with toys inside himself and that he’s stared at a picture that Harry had posted nearly a year ago of him sucking off some anonymous guy far too many times and imagined it was him in the picture double the amount.

 

He takes a deep breath before he approaches the small table, and he clears his throat.

 

When Harry looks up, he’s got bags under his eyes and he blinks slowly. He’s got one foot resting on the edge of the chair, what looks to be an English textbook open on the table in front of him, beside a large mug of hot chocolate, barely touched.

 

‘Hi!’ he chirps, his voice edged between sleepy, happy, and pleasantly surprised.

 

‘Hey,’ Louis smiles back, his mouth quirking up. ‘Would you mind if I joined you? There’s no other space...’

 

Harry nods quickly, his leg falling off the chair as he sweeps all his belongings scattered over the table top toward himself, a pink highlighter clattering out his denim pencil case and onto the floor.

 

Louis picks it up for him before he sits down.

 

‘Y’alright?’ he asks as he leans back in his chair, taking a sip of his tea.

 

Harry smiles and reaches for his hot chocolate, gingerly taking a sip. It leaves him with a cute little moustache, and if Louis knew him better, he would lean over the table and wipe it off with his thumb. But as it is, he thinks Harry might be a bit put off by Louis being so forward.

 

‘I took a couple days off and now it’s coming back to haunt me,’ Harry sighs.

 

Louis’ not surprised. Harry had mentioned it on his blog, had even posted pictures, after he’d done a private session with a man who had ‘too much money’ and had asked if he could spank himself more than a few times.

 

It had looked rather uncomfortable, his bum coloured in reds and purples and blues in the pictures he’d posted, and Louis’ not surprised he’d taken a few days off to recover from it.

 

Louis gives him a sympathetic shrug, not willing to delve into asking why and putting Harry on the spot like that.

 

Harry sighs and has another sip before he closes his textbook, yellow highlighter keeping his place.

 

‘If I were to drop out right now, what do you think the chances of me becoming a rock star would be?’ Harry sighs, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand.

 

Louis finds himself grinning softly, privately, over the rim of his mug. He can see it, Harry in his tight jeans and a shredded top, screaming his heart out for thousands. He has the mouth for it, all Mick Jagger-ish.

 

He shakes his head at him. ‘Pretty slim, I’m afraid. You could always go the groupie route though, if you wanted.’ That’s another thing Louis can easily picture, Harry as the groupie everyone fucks when they’re stone. He grips the handle of his mug tighter at the thought.

 

Harry tilts his head, raising his eyebrows thoughtfully and trying to push down his smile.

 

‘I suppose so,’ he muses, before his eyes flick back to Louis and he takes another sip of his hot chocolate.

 

 

 

 

It would appear that after the fifth time that Louis speaks to Harry Styles, Harry seems to assume that they’re friends.

 

Which is fine with Louis, completely, it just makes it a bit harder to look in the mirror because being friends with Harry is addictive but watching Harry is more so.

 

Louis tries very hard, though.

 

He spends the whole of Friday afternoon on the couch, his hands between his knees with his eyes on the television.

 

Niall gives him a strange look when he gets home, shoving his keys back into his pocket as he dumps his backpack down beside the door, before he toes off his shoes, leaves them where they are. He takes a bite from his sandwich, frowning before he dabs at the corners of his mouth with his thumb.

 

‘I swear I saw that kitten twink you’re obsessed with when I was at Pret,’ Niall greets, before taking another bite.

 

Louis shakes his head quickly and looks at the clock. Harry’s livestream should be starting soon.

 

‘Doubt it,’ he says easily, pretending to be focussed on an episode of Mythbusters.

 

Niall shrugs before he sets his sandwich on the worktop and shrugs off his coat, hanging it over the back of the armchair.

 

He looks back at Louis before sitting down next to him. He chews slowly before his eyes flick to the clock and he squints. ‘Speaking of, isn’t his show about to start or something?’

 

It is, should be. Harry’s probably greeting all his viewers and talking about his day. He’s probably still dressed, so there wouldn’t be much harm in Louis watching, really.

 

‘I don’t watch that anymore.’ Louis says slowly, trying to give Niall a smile.

 

Niall rolls his eyes. ‘I’ll leave for a bit if that’s what you want?’ he offers, ‘Can even take Liam out for a drink if you want to listen to it loud?’

 

Louis loves Niall, like a little brother or a limb, and he’s grateful for how understanding he is, but when he’s trying to wean himself off his obsession with a boy who fucks himself for money, his offer is all too tempting. It’s a losing battle. He nods pitifully.

 

Niall squeezes his shoulder and stands up again. ‘See, that was all you had to do. Me and Liam will be back in an hour or two,’ he tells him as he pulls his phone from his pocket and pulls his coat back on, toeing on his shoes and leaving the flat with a slam of the front door, dialling Liam’s number.

 

It takes Louis half a minute to get to his room, laptop loading as he gets his lube out, pushing his trackies down his thighs as he rests back against his pillows.

 

He clicks onto Harry’s site, his heart thumping at the sweet little smile of Harry’s photograph at the top of the page. He takes a moment to save the most recent picture he’s posted, of him kneeling on the floor in thigh highs, cock full against his belly, before he clicks on the flashing _I’m Live!_ button.

 

He logs in before he’s at Harry’s screen, the feed taking a moment to load, before he’s treated with the sight of Harry sitting cross-legged in front of the camera, top off with a bubblegum pink skirt pinching at his waist.

 

He talks slowly about his weekend plans, his lips quirked in a constant flirty smile as his fingers trail up and down his soft-looking thighs, edging closer and closer to the hem of his skirt but never quite getting there.

 

Louis knows what he wants, and he has to do a small mental summary, just like always, to make sure that he’s not going to desperately need ten pounds within the next week or so, before he clicks on the green donate button.

 

Harry pauses what he’s saying to squint at the screen, all before a radiant smile spreads over his face. ‘And thank you to Tommo the Tank Engine to getting us to my weekly mark,’

 

And just like that, Harry is peeling back the hem of his skirt so that his cock bobs out, hard and wet. He wraps his hand around himself, and Louis uncaps his lube as he does, wrapping his slick hand around himself and encouraging himself harder as he wanks himself in time with Harry.

 

Harry leans forward and his eyes scan the comment section and he laughs sweetly before he pulls the hem of his skirt back down, pulling it tight over his lap so that the line of his cock is obvious against the soft pink fabric.

 

‘Happy Birthday Rocking Jock, any requests?’ he purrs, pressing his palm against the head of his cock through the material as he leans in closer to the screen, eyes focussed as he reads. His grin is that of a minx.

 

‘I think I can do that for you.’ Harry says softly, before he’s giving a wide smile and leaning over, out the eye of the camera. When he comes back, he’s got lube and a thick, pink vibrator in his hands.

 

He sets them down beside his foot before he pushes his laptop back and gets up onto his knees, pressing into his duvet.

 

Louis’ transfixed as he drags his hands up his slender thighs and presses his hands against the hem, dragging it up higher and higher, before letting go. Louis groans in frustration, squeezing his fist around his base.

 

Harry wiggles around so that he’s facing away from the camera, so that Louis’ watching the backs of his thighs before Harry’s reaching to tilt the camera up so that he’s got a brilliant view of Harry’s bum, the camera near peeking up his skirt.

 

He bends over slowly until Louis’ cock twitches in his hold, eyes focussed onto where Harry shuffles until he’s comfortable and the hem of his skirt is resting just under his bum.

 

‘Can everyone see?’ comes Harry’s voice, muffled before his hands reach back and pinch at the edge of his skirt, slowly pushing it up before his hole’s on show, smooth and pink.

 

Louis bites his lip, wanting nothing more than to get Harry on his tongue, have him sit on his face as he licks him open.

 

Harry reaches around and his body shifts a bit before his arm’s drawing back and he’s got his vibrator between his fingers, slick with lube. He presses the thick tip of it against his hole before he presses slowly.

 

Louis’ almost awed with how he takes it, whimpering just loud enough for his webcam to pick up as he presses the fat toy inside himself, until only the flared base remains. Louis can see that his thighs are trembling from the effort of it before he presses his thumb against a button and a loud buzzing noise comes through.

 

Harry moans as he pinches at the base, drawing it out of himself almost completely before he shoves it back in, moaning when he presses it in fully.

 

Harry’s ruthless with himself, fucks himself hard and fast with the toy so that he whines and moans and whimpers, relentless. His arm is jerky as he wanks himself off in time.

 

Harry comes fast, but he leaves the toy on and stuffed inside himself while he tries to catch his breath, and that’s what gets Louis to come, listening to Harry’s sensitive little whimpers before he reaches back and draws it out slowly.

 

His hole is slick with it.

 

His cheeks are flushed and he looks so sweet when he clumsily moves around to face the camera again, skirt crumpled with a wet spot at the front.

 

Louis donates another two pounds to make Harry grin again before he’s closing the tab, right before the real feeling of guilt can kick in.

 

 

 

 

Harry messages him a Friday night, and it’s new, the fact that Louis has Harry’s number programmed into his phone, as well as a dumb picture of a pineapple which Harry had sent him the second Louis had given him his number.

 

And Louis’ been fine with it, has loved getting Harry’s whiny messages about how cold his single room is and grainy selfies when Harry can’t sleep, but the fact that Harry sends him a message asking if he’s up not even ten minutes after Louis had just watched him do a strip tease while wearing gauzy pink panties and a garter belt fills Louis with guilt and he switches off his phone and leaves it face down on his bedside table.

 

He only switches it on Saturday night before he goes out with Niall, and by then Harry has sent him two pouty selfies and eight messages.

 

It’s then that Louis decides to put a stop to his subscription to _cumwhoreharry_ once and for all.

 

Which, of course, doesn’t last long, because he comes home frustrated that he couldn’t find anyone decent enough to pull and it feels like his only option is video number seventeen, the one with Harry in a silky nighty that just skims the top of his thighs as he pouts at the camera.

 

 

 

 

‘So, what are your plans for the weekend?’ Harry asks him, winding his earphones around his mobile phone before tucking it into his back pocket.

 

Louis kicks at the ground. He has work in half an hour.

 

‘Liam’s throwing a small party on Saturday, but other than that, nothing I guess. And yourself?’ Louis replies, looking to the side to watch Harry.

 

He leaves out the part that he’s probably going to try not to watch Harry, and that then he probably will. And he’ll probably watch ‘Hump Day Video’ number seven again, the one where Harry comes untouched, riding a huge dildo as he plays with his nipples. He cries somewhere near the end.

 

‘Nothing planned, really. I’ll probably watch the entire first two seasons on Friends and make some headway on my photography coursework, but nothing other than that,’

 

Louis nods, and if it were anyone else, he’d know they were hinting at doing something with him, but Harry makes him stupid.

 

He walks Harry to Abbotts Hall without really noticing, only realizing when Harry stops and steps onto the first of the stone steps.

 

‘Well,’ Harry says, raising his eyebrows. Louis raises his own back, pulling his jacket tighter. Harry laughs softly, shaking his head. ‘Bye Louis, enjoy your weekend.’

 

Louis sighs as Harry turns to climb up the steps, and the air curls out his lips in a cloud of cold weather. His eyes roam up his legs, wrapped tight in denim. Louis wants them wrapped tight around his hips. Harry’s pulling open the main door when realization hits.

 

‘Hey Harry!’ he calls, and Harry turns back to look at him, lower lip between his teeth.

 

‘Yeah?’

 

‘You want to come on Saturday?’

 

Harry smiles and nods quickly. ‘I’d love to Louis.’

 

 

 

 

Louis feels like shit when he watches Harry choke on a dildo that night, per request of somebody who donates a lot.

 

 

 

 

Harry arrives just after eight, edging in through the open door wearing skin tight jeans and a black jumper, looking around as he bunches his fists up in the sleeves. Louis doesn’t understand how somebody so sweet looking, adorable, can spend his Friday nights sucking on chunks of rubber for money.

 

Louis tells himself it’s just his imagination that Harry’s face lights up when he spots him, that it’s probably the lights.

 

Niall had taken on the responsibility of alcohol, which had resulted in a disgusting rum, wine and something-Louis-can’t-quite-place mixture that has Louis feeling a bit tipsy after a single cup. Louis pours Harry a cup as he walks over, presenting it to him and getting a grin which makes his eyes crinkle prettily in the corners. Louis knows he should stop drinking before he tells Harry that he thinks he’s pretty when he wears white panties.

 

Harry drinks fast, and the bob of his throat is mesmerizing.

 

Liam’s nice, so Liam’s friends with everybody, and Harry seems to know a lot more people than Louis does. There’s a time when Harry drifts off somewhere in the pull of people and Louis ends up on the couch with a girl with dark roots, leaning into her.

 

Harry’s off with a boy who has sides of his head shaved and is nice to look at, and Harry’s pretty on his arm, so Louis plays interested in what the girl’s saying. She’s pretty, and he wouldn’t mind sleeping with her.

 

The couch dips beside him, and he ignores it until there’s a head resting on his shoulder and hair tickling his neck.

 

It gives him a fright, until he realizes it’s Harry. He’s had too much to drink, Louis can tell. His eyes are glassy and he’s smiling too wide and he wriggles around until he’s practically on top of Louis. It’s not unwelcome contact, just a bit unfamiliar, and Harry’s cuddly and warm as he throws his thigh over Louis, sprawled uncomfortably.

 

The girl with the dark roots and tongue piercing leaves when Harry starts telling him a string of jokes, trying to spread his legs wider. Louis’ watched him spread his legs wide countless times for the camera. He looks like he wants to be fucked, legs splayed and head tilted back as he laughs at his own joke.

 

Louis rests his hand on his thigh, idle, as Harry starts to babble nonsensically.

 

Louis’ only vaguely aware of Niall across the room, but he’s a lot more aware when Niall is at Liam’s side and pointing in his direction. He knows he’s in trouble when Liam weaves through the crowd and towards them, and he draws his hand off the warmth of Harry’s thigh before Liam stops in front of them.

 

Harry gives him a bright smile and tilts his hips up.

 

‘Who’s this?’ Liam asks, smiling in his way that gets people to like him. He looks good, unshaven and scruffy. Louis’ hyper-conscious of Harry’s legs shifting open wider.

 

‘Hi, I’m Harry,’ Harry slurs, sticking out his hand and leaning forward to shake hands with Liam.

 

Liam smiles, almost fondly, at the drunk boy before he takes a sip from his own cup. ‘You look rather familiar, doesn’t he Louis?’

 

Louis raises his eyebrows at Liam before he shakes his head. Harry draws his feet up onto the couch.

 

Liam tilts his head toward the kitchen and Louis sighs before pushing off the couch. Warm fingers circle his wrist and pull and Louis looks down at Harry, pouting up at him with Bambi eyes.

 

‘Where’re you going?’ he asks, voice blurred at the edges.

 

‘I’ll be right back.’ Louis tells him, and Harry nods and leans back into the couch.

 

Niall folds his arms over his chest and frowns at him. ‘That’s the guy right? The one you’re always watching?’

 

Louis nods and fights the urge to look back at Harry.

 

‘How long’s this been going on, then?’ Liam asks then, resting back against the sink.

 

‘It just kinda happened. I’ve only known him a couple of weeks, a month and a bit maybe; he’s in my psychology class. He’s really sweet.’

 

‘You’re not fucking him?’ Niall frowns, looking somewhere along the lines of shocked and affronted.

 

Louis shakes his head. ‘Haven’t even gotten ‘round to asking him out yet. I feel too guilty because I keep watching him.’

 

Niall nods slowly. Liam shrugs and bumps shoulders with Niall.

 

‘Well,’ Liam starts, frowning slightly, ‘as long as you know what you’re doing, I guess.’

 

Louis laughs. ‘I haven’t a clue. But I think I might ask him out tomorrow, when he’s sober,’ he says slowly.

 

Niall seems to think that’s enough. Once they’re satisfied, Louis’ shoved back in the general direction of the couch.

 

Harry’s asleep though, face soft and mouth open with soft snory sounds, his hands pressed flat to the back of the couch and his legs curled up to his chest.

 

Louis reaches to pet at his soft hair, ends up running his fingers through and pulling gently so that Harry almost purrs in his sleep. He giggles softly at the boy before he shakes his shoulder, trying to get him to wake up.

 

‘Harry?’ he murmurs softly, ‘Wake up. This couch will ruin your back,’

 

Harry grumbles before he blinks his eyes open. He smiles slowly, very pretty, as he pulls on Louis’ wrist. Louis follows willingly, curious as to what Harry wants, before Harry tugs him down onto the couch and leans into the warmth of him.

 

Louis’ startled, confused laughter ready to breathe out his throat, before Harry’s lips are against his.

 

It’s soft and quick. Harry’s kiss is warm and sweet before he falls asleep again, clinging onto Louis.

 

Louis’ heart thumps as Harry wraps his arms around his neck and starts to snore softly.


	2. Chapter 2

When Louis wakes up in the morning, it’s with realization that he’d, in fact, fallen asleep on the possibly-made-of-bricks couch with almost no signs of hangover, and heat draped over his chest.

 

Harry’s still splayed on top of him, breath soft and slow as it puffs out against his neck, and Louis has the heel of Harry’s boot digging into his calve. It’s not particularly pleasant.

 

Louis was nowhere near drunk enough to forget the comfortable brush of lips from the night before, but it’s easy enough to guess that probably the last thing Harry remembers is dancing with some redhead wearing dungarees to Wham!

 

He thinks Harry’s been drooling on him, and he finds he doesn’t mind as much as he should. Harry’s not particularly heavy, but Louis’ stiff and his back aches and Harry’s body feels to be made up of sharp angles and joints that prod at Louis in a way which wouldn’t be completely unwanted if they were in a place more comfortable (see: Louis’ bed)

 

There’s the minor problem that Harry’s weight is pressing down on Louis’ bladder, and that Harry seems perfectly content sleeping on him. Louis doesn’t want to wake him up, really, because when he cranes his neck and can see the half of Harry’s face that isn’t smushed up against his neck of his shirt, Louis can see just how precious he looks while fast asleep.

 

But Louis really needs a wee.

 

His arm feels like dead weight before he tries to lift it, his hand settling on Harry’s shoulder. He shakes gently, until Harry snuffles and murmurs something nonsensical into his skin, his breath hot.

 

He wraps his arm tighter where it lays over Louis’ lower stomach, curling up closer to Louis and pressing harder on his bladder. Louis grits his teeth.

 

‘Harry?’ he tries, shaking his shoulder again. ‘Harry, babe, wake up.’

 

Harry makes a whining sound in the back of his throat before he’s trying to push himself up, hand pressing in the centre of Louis’ chest. He’s a clumsy mess, trying to get upright and ending up sitting half on Louis’ thigh with the heel of his boot digging harder into his shin.

 

‘M’ head’s sore.’ Harry whimpers, raising a hand to rubs his knuckles at his eyes, his sleep-puffy mouth turning down in the corners.

 

Louis leans up onto his elbows.

 

‘To be fair, you did drink far more of Niall’s concoction than would generally be advised,’ Louis retorts and Harry frowns at his words and squeezes his eyes shut as he reaches up to press his fingers to his forehead.

 

 

‘Hi,’ he grumbles lowly, trying to give Louis a smile before his face contorts in pain again and he carries on massaging at his forehead.

 

Louis gives a sympathetic smile.

 

‘Morning,’ he offers, before shifting his leg under the weight of Harry’s leg. ‘I can get you something for that if you, you know,’ He twitches his leg.

 

Harry’s cheeks are the pink of sunrise when he twigs and wriggles from where he’s seated on Louis’ thigh, standing up on wobbly legs and sitting back down when Louis sits up.

 

He’s darling, sleep-rumpled and droopy-eyed as he frowns from headache, hunched over his denim-wrapped thighs.

 

After Louis’ finished in the bathroom, he brings Harry two headache tablets and a glass of water, which Harry accepts with a gentle smile.

 

He watches Harry as he sips slowly, the way his dark eyelashes flutter against his rosy cheeks and how his throat shifts with it.

 

Harry’s cheeks pink when he realises Louis’ been watching him, and Louis blushes when he’s been caught. Harry scratches at the back of his neck, the collar of his jumper low so that his collarbones bump out, skin soft and delicate looking against the dark wool.

 

‘I suppose I should leave now, right?’ Harry asks, shy.

 

Louis shrugs, eyes flicking to where Harry’s fingers form a steeple, resting on his knees. ‘You can if you want. All I can really offer you is burnt toast and the first season of IT Crowd,’

 

Harry looks away from his hands then, up at Louis, and a slow smile spreads on his lips.

 

‘Would you mind?’ he asks gently, and Louis probably shakes his head too fast to seem nonchalant about the situation.

 

‘No,’ Louis blurts, ‘I wouldn’t mind at all.’

 

In the end, Harry only leaves after eleven, and any hopes Louis had had of overcoming his crush seem near fictional.

 

 

 

 

 

Come Sunday evening, Louis still extracts himself from the couch at seven to go watch Harry’s Sunday broadcast, but Liam stops him, leaning over the back of the couch.

 

‘Isn’t that a bit weird now? Considering that you’re friends with him and all,’ he asks, and Niall draws his eyes away from television to look back at Louis, too.

 

Louis knows it is. ‘What do you mean?’ he asks instead, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

‘I mean, you invited him last night and passed out on the couch with him. And I’m assuming the person you’re always on the phone with is him, so you’re obviously friends. So isn’t it a little bit weird to watch him get off without him knowing?’ Liam asks, voice soft like he’s talking to a child ready to throw a tantrum.

 

Louis frowns. ‘So it’s weird because I’m friends with him?’

 

Liam shrugs and Niall leans forward before answering, ‘Well, yeah, it’s like if you watched us without us knowing,’

 

Louis knows they’re right, and he knows that if he doesn’t stop, it’s just going to grow. But still.

 

‘The difference is that I’d rather shoot myself in the foot than sleep with either of you,’ he growls before stomping off to his room, feeling like a bratty ten-year-old again.

 

He can’t stop thinking about what Liam and Niall have said as he watches Harry babble on and answer viewer questions.

 

 

 

 

 

When Louis gets to class on Tuesday, there’s already somebody sitting in the seat beside his, slumped over with their head resting on the desk. He assumes that it’s the girl with three ear piercings who normally sits next to him, but as he nears the hunched over figure, he realises two things, that a, the person’s shoulders, while they are narrow and swathed in a soft jumper, are a twidge broad, and that, b, the girl with the three earrings is in the row in front, hunched over her mobile.

 

It’s when Louis gets close enough to see the soft tufts of hair peeking out from under the grey woolly hat that he realises that its Harry hunched over the desk, ear buds in.

 

Louis sets his backpack down on the desk before he rests his palm on Harry’s back, between his jutting shoulder blades.

 

Harry jumps slightly at the contact, before he’s pulling his earphones out and smiling sleepily.

 

‘New seat?’ Louis asks, eyebrow quirked.

 

Harry just smiles and Louis watches as his mouth plays cruel, his teeth skimming over his full lower lip and looking ready to bite in, but instead Harry’s lips pull into a bright smile.

 

‘Morning,’ he drawls, and Louis wants to lick into his mouth, wrap his fingers around Harry’s wrists and taste the mint on his gums as Harry breathes into his lungs.

 

It’s a heady thought, that Louis’ now good enough friends with Harry Styles that he’d move seats to sit next to him.

 

He, strangely enough, can focus better when Harry’s next to him, because now he can’t really stare without it being plainly obvious and Harry noticing, so he’s forced to look straight ahead and try, almost successfully, not to let his mind wander to Harry’s broadcast from the previous evening where he’d tried to come three times in a row, wanking himself slowly in front of camera and coming twice before his breathing had gotten too heavy and shallow and he’d been too near crying that he’d stopped and apologized for not getting to three times.

 

Come the end of the lecture, Louis has some vague idea of what’s going on, and Harry’s packing up slowly beside him, before he turns to him with a lazy smile.

 

‘Would you like to get lunch?’ Harry asks, hoisting his messenger bag onto his shoulder.

 

Louis checks his watch and smiles. ‘It’s only eleven,’ he teases, stuffing his hands into his pockets afterward.

 

‘Brunch, then,’ Harry shrugs.

 

Louis tilts his head in the direction of the door.

 

‘Come along then,’

 

Harry follows.

 

 

 

 

 

Harry takes a sip of his lemonade to try and stifle his giggles while Louis takes a bite from his sandwich, grinning at him.

 

‘You have to admit that you would though,’ Louis teases, once he’s swallowed.

 

‘Hugh Grant’s old enough to be my father,’ Harry blushes, pinching at his croissant before resting the pastry on his tongue.

 

Louis winks at him. ‘Something tells me that wouldn’t bother you all that much,’

 

Harry looks back down at his half-mauled chocolate croissant with cheeks still flushed the colour of Louis’ strawberry milkshake from Louis’ multiple innuendos.

 

Harry’s quiet as he sips from his lemonade again, eyes downcast, before he looks up with a slight-frowny face, looking akin to a thoughtful toddler.

 

‘What makes you think men are what I’m into?’ Harry asks slowly, eyes squinted against the sunlight when it peeks out from behind the grey clouds.

 

Louis’ mind instantly skips to the fact that maybe Louis assumed because he’s been watching Harry ride vibrators and whine for his daddy for just over a year now, and he just sort of assumed that Harry’s obvious love for getting fucked equated to gay.

 

He shrugs. ‘Takes one to know one, I suppose,’

 

Harry grins, and Louis thinks Harry’s lips might be the exact colour raspberries and he wants desperately to lean over the little outside table and kiss him until he can only taste Harry’s lemonade.

 

Harry nods.

 

‘I suppose,’ he repeats, and Louis wishes he was wearing sunglasses so he could stare at him longer.

 

 

 

 

 

For Harry’s next livestream, Louis tunes in in time to see Harry’s lower half filling up his screen, his bum wrapped in emerald knickers with little cream frills along his thighs with knitted knee-socks pulled over his knees, up to mid-thigh, converse laced up on his feet.

 

He’s kicking his feet to and fro, and Louis wants to be between his thighs, just squeezing at the soft flesh of his arse until he can sneak his fingers under the waistband and finger him until he’s mewling.

 

He slips in his left ear bud and switches the volume up, Harry’s caramel voice filling the silence.

 

‘So thank you again Peter Parker Twenty Three for the lovely gift, and to everybody else, remember that if you buy me something from my wish list, you can either get a special thank you picture or video from me, depending on price.’ Harry drawls slowly, as his hand comes into view, resting on the curve of his bum and squeezing.

 

‘But onto a more interesting note, somebody left a request for me to finger myself until I come, and as some of you may know, I hate to disappoint.’

 

Louis watches as Harry teases at pulling the waistband down, wriggling his hips around and lifting them off the bed. Louis wants to hold each calve steady as he unties the bows in his converse, before he can slide his socks down his smooth legs and tease his fingers up his inner thighs until Harry ruins his new panties by dribbling precome into the silky-looking fabric.

 

Louis closes the window as soon as Harry’s come, guilt sitting too heavily in his stomach when Harry gives the camera the same little grin he’d given Louis earlier that same day, sweet and almost shy.

 

 

 

 

 

Niall’s got a girl over, and Louis can tell fifteen minutes in that she’s not interested and Niall’s just getting more agitated the more awkward it gets, so Louis doesn’t even have to think before he’s telling Liam to invite some friends over while Louis messages Harry to come visit.

 

 _Is this a booty call ? x_ Harry sends him back, and Louis rolls his eyes but fights back the urge to type I wish.

 

 _nall’s date with some girl’s gone pear-shaped, and liam and i are trying to ease it x_ Louis sends, and Harry’s reply comes back mere moments later.

 

_There in a bit xx_

 

Louis shouldn’t grin at the two xx’s Harry sends, because he isn’t a teenager texting a crush anymore, but he does anyway.

 

 

 

 

Harry arrives in under twenty minutes, and two of Liam’s friends are there already, one of them between Niall and the girl as Liam reads out the names on the spines of DVD cases.

 

‘The party’s alive, I see,’ Harry comments, when Louis opens the door for him and Harry steps inside.

 

Louis wants to slide his fingers under Harry’s long-sleeve, scratch up his back until he purrs into Louis’ mouth. Louis wants to feel Harry smile against his lips, kiss at his neck so that Harry giggles from the tickle.

 

‘You hungry?’ Louis asks, ignoring Harry’s sarcasm.

 

Harry pokes at his tummy before looking back up at Louis. ‘What do you have?’

 

‘Niall ordered pizza a while ago, so there’ll be that soon,’ he notes Harry’s slight little frown before he carries on, ‘but we might have something else hiding somewhere in a cobwebby cupboard.’

 

Harry tuts and follows Louis into the kitchen, leaning against the worktop. ‘You know, if I had my own kitchen rather than a communal nook, I would take much better care than the three of you put together,’

 

‘Feel free to look after ours for us,’ Louis chides as he pulls open the fridge, before bending to scan through the contents. ‘I can offer you an apple, or some leftover Chinese. There’s also some bread left if you want a toastie or something.’

 

‘Leftovers sound good.’

 

Louis pops both polystyrene containers into the microwave and hands Harry a fork after.

 

When Harry hoists himself onto the counter to eat, Louis wants nothing more than to edge between his thighs and lean in to kiss him gently, draw back to feed him sweet and sour noodles.

 

They end up spending most of the evening in the kitchen, giggling through a bottle of red wine.

 

 

 

 

 

On Friday, Harry starts his livestream with a bow in his hair and a teddy bear clutched to his chest, his torso swathed in a linen shirt as he looks right into the webcam and pouts, before he simpers, ‘I missed you daddy,’

 

Louis is fucked, and he comes embarrassingly fast watching Harry plug himself up and whine for his daddy.

 

 

 

 

 

 _Meet me at Lazaris ??Xx_ Harry messages him, Tuesday morning. _I’ll walk you to campus x_ he sends, not a minute later.

 

 _twenty minutes xx_ Louis sends back, towel drying his hair.

 

Harry’s reply comes a few minutes later when Louis’ pulling on his jeans, buttoning them up before he pulls on his MNU hoodie and starts at packing his backpack. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

 

 _See you soon!! xx_ Harry’s reply reads.

 

 

 

 

 

Harry’s already there when Louis arrives, sitting in a table by the window. Louis walks up to his table, and Harry looks up from where he’s sipping from his mug, a matching mug on the opposite side of the table.

 

‘Hi,’ Louis greets, sitting down across from him.

 

Harry beams in response. ‘I got you a hot chocolate because it’s chilly, and I was getting a brownie, so I thought I might as well get you one too,’

 

Louis lifts his mug as a thank you before he sips lightly, the warmth of it curling around his insides so that heat settles low in his tummy. But that might just be his natural reaction to Harry now.

 

 

 

 

 

Louis doesn’t have the patience to wait until Thursday afternoon to watch Harry’s video. Harry had dropped a hint in his livestream, and Louis had noticed a slight wobble in his step that he would like to assume had been from filming, so come Wednesday evening when he gets a new email in his inbox, he drums his fingertips against his thigh before making quick decision and getting up to close his door as quietly as he can muster, even though he’s sure that Niall won’t notice the click of it when there’s three other rowdy boys in their living room.

 

It’s almost twelve minutes long, and Louis presses in his left earphone and sits down on his bed, pulling his laptop with him and setting it between his spread knees as he presses play quickly, before resting his hands back on the waistband on his jogging bottoms.

 

He knows he’s in for trouble because Harry’s in a skirt, a red tartan thing that fits at his narrow waist and gives the illusion of full hips. He knows he’s in for trouble because Harry looks like sin in a little skirt and white socks that go just over his knees, the sleeves of his large shirt rolled up to his elbows.

 

He looks like he’s wearing lip-gloss and maybe some mascara and Louis can almost smell the fruity scent of a preteen’s perfume wafting off him.

 

Harry sucks on his fingers and whimpers as he spanks himself, the skirt bunched up around his waist. The camera zooms in on the raspberry red of his arse afterward, and Harry trails his fingertips over the blushing skin so lightly and Louis wants to rest his hands on Harry’s hips and kiss him better.

 

When Harry wraps his lips around his cherry dildo, it’s near obscene, how he blinks slow for the camera and hollows his cheeks until the toy’s spit slick and he’s pressing it against where he’s glistening with lube.

 

Harry whines when he presses the thick toy inside himself, only stopping once it’s in completely, just the flared base sticking out as Harry takes deep breaths.

 

Harry fucks himself slow, cock full and hard between his legs as he draws long and needy moans from his shiny mouth, open and breathing wet against his pillow case as his fingers seems to almost shake where they clutch the base and shove it inside of himself.

 

Louis comes when Harry draws the toy out and presses his finger in alongside, breaking off into a desperate whine.

 

 

 

 

 

Harry gets the flu and vows to stay in bed for a week until he recovers, and Louis refuses to admit that he misses him as much as he does.

 

Phycology is boring when Louis doesn’t have Harry to daydream about and he’s forced to focus, and Harry’s only livestream for the week is a sniffly ten minute one on Sunday explaining the situation and apologizing. He also apologizes for the fact that the ‘Hump Day Video’ is just going to be multiple outtakes from previous videos.

 

Louis decides that it’s going to be the week he stops watching Harry’s videos.

 

 

 

 

 

Until he caves and rewatches video fourteen, where Harry handcuffs himself to his bed frame with a vibrator buzzing inside himself, getting to the point where he starts to beg whoever’s filming him to let him come.

 

The video’s thirteen minutes long, with four minutes of Harry begging and pleading, and near a minute of him trembling before his cock kicks and he comes hard all over himself and looks near tears afterward as his body starts to curl up. He still manages a last-minute smile to the camera, equal parts adorable and debauched.

 

 

 

 

 

Louis gives up the pretence of not minding Harry’s absence on Thursday, when he spends the entirety of his English Lit course and his Psychology course willing his phone to vibrate with a message from Harry, even though it’s unlikely.

 

By the time he gets home, he’s almost desperate to hear Harry’s voice, so much so that before he can overthink it, he’s dialling Harry’s number.

 

Harry answers on the fourth ring, sounding congested and miserable when he asks, ‘Lou?’

 

‘How’re you feeling?’ Louis asks instead, even though it’s obvious that Harry’s not feeling great.

 

Harry sighs deeply, with a little wheeze. ‘I feel like shit,’ he finally replies, but Louis can hear he’s smiling.

 

‘Have you eaten yet?’ Louis says next, even though it’s mid-afternoon and he thinks he may be decidedly worried if Harry says no.

 

Harry laughs softly. ‘You sound like my mum. But, not since breakfast, no,’

 

‘You busy?’

 

Harry laughs again, before Louis listens to him sniffle. ‘Do I sound like I’m going anywhere?’

 

‘I suppose not,’ Louis replies, and a second later, ‘Could I come over?’

 

‘Course, if you want.’

 

‘Great,’ Louis grins, leaning against the back of the armchair, ‘be over in half an hour. That cool?’

 

Harry hums before he starts to cough, and Louis says goodbye before Harry can strain himself further.

 

He picks him up a carton of minestrone soup on the way and a blueberry muffin.

 

Harry answers the door immediately, his nose red and his eyes puffy and his hair greasy. He looks like he hasn’t showered all week, dressed in Superman print pyjamas that make Louis want to tuck him back into bed and kiss his forehead.

 

‘I come with food,’ Louis greets, and Harry tries to smile but it ends in a pitiful little cough.

 

‘Have I ever told you I love you?’ Harry sighs as he sits down at the foot of his bed.

 

Louis ignores the dull ache in his chest as he sets the soup down on Harry’s desk, peeling back the cardboard.

 

‘Get back into bed,’ Louis tells him gently, and Harry doesn’t seem to have enough energy to disobey.

 

Louis watches Harry wriggle down under his duvet, cheeks pale and eyes hazy, before he blows at the steam and passes Harry the plastic spoon. Harry smiles, and he’s got sweat dotted along his forehead.

 

Louis knows he should be worried, because Harry looks like death and he still wants to cuddle him until he feels better. He still wants to hold his hand and wipe at his forehead, wash his hair for him and let Harry nap in his arms.

 

Louis sits down in his desk chair, and Harry frowns. ‘How scared are you of getting sick?’ he asks after he takes his first sip.

 

Louis raises an eyebrow. ‘Not overly so...why?’

 

Harry juts his lip out in a pout. ‘I want to cuddle.’

 

There are most probably multiple alternate universes where Louis would never cuddle with Harry Styles out of fear of getting sick. Louis, unfortunately, does not live in one of them.

 

‘Budge up, then,’ he tells Harry, toeing off his shoes and peeling back his duvet to slip in.

 

It’s an uncomfortably tight fit and Louis feels too hot within seconds, but Harry makes a pleased sound and wriggles against his side as he starts to slurp his soup.

 

Harry looks sleepy by the time he’s finished, and Louis feels like he’s cuddling a furnace. He passes Harry the glass of water on his bedside before he pressing the back of his hand against his forehead, then each cheek.

 

‘You’re on fire, darling.’ Louis says, nurturing worry sneaking around his words.

 

Harry passes him the empty glass to put back on the table and rolls onto his side, throwing an arm over Louis as his eyes droop.

 

‘I feel freezing, though.’ He whines softly, sniffling into Louis’ shirt.

 

Louis strokes his hand down Harry’s back and leans into him, smelling his hair.

 

‘When did you last shower babe?’ he asks gently. He doesn’t know what it is about Harry being sick that makes him want to call him millions of pet-names, but Harry seems to like it, so.

 

Harry shrugs and tucks his face against Louis’ neck. ‘My legs feel too weak to shower,’ he offers as reason, and Louis nods and rests his cheek against Harry’s hair.

 

‘You can come back to mine, if you want. Have a nice bubble bath?’ Louis suggests.

 

‘Do I really smell so bad?’ Harry asks with a pout, and Louis shakes his head.

 

‘I just feel like you’ll get better faster if you’re clean,’ he justifies, thinking back to sick days in bed where his mum would guide him into the shower and make him eggy soldiers after.

 

Harry sighs into his neck, and Louis is sure he’s going to get sick from this. ‘That much walking sounds scary.’

 

Louis scratches between his shoulder blades. ‘You can jump on my back when you get tired, promise.’

 

He’s just thinking of getting Harry clean and fluffy and then maybe tucking him into the couch, or Liam’s bed, so he can rest in fresh bedding.

 

Harry snuggles under Louis’ arm and presses his face into Louis’ chest. Louis is starting to sweat from the heat of lying with him.

 

‘Okay,’ Harry yawns, his leg hitching over Louis’ thighs, ‘but five minutes of cuddling first.’

 

 

 

 

 

He runs Harry a warm bath and leaves Harry to it, telling him not to drown himself, please, while he runs to Sainsbury’s for eggs and bread.

 

He whines that he’s gone pruny when Louis gets back, still curled up in the bath until Louis offers him a towel and tries desperately hard to avert his eyes.

 

He lends Harry jogging bottoms and a woolly jumper, some bobble socks because their flat isn’t quite as warm as Harry’s stuffy single had been.

 

He pulls his duvet from his bed and sets it down on the couch, telling Harry to snuggle in.

 

‘What do you want to watch?’ Louis asks him, fiddling with the remote.

 

Harry looks contented, hair drying and curly at the tips with his eyes blinking lazily, the duvet pulled up under his chin.

 

‘Something happy.’ He mumbles, and he looks so near sleep and Louis wants to kiss him until he’s feeling better.

 

Louis puts in Sleeping Beauty for him, and Harry falls asleep within four minutes.

 

Louis works on his course work while Harry naps, trying to understand how a month ago he was dreaming of meeting Harry Styles so that he could fuck him, and how now he’s spending his Thursday afternoon caring for him and trying not to coo over how adorable he looks, bundled up on his couch.

 

Near the end of the film, Louis’ tummy starts to grumble and he wills himself to make food.

 

Liam should be home soon, he thinks as he cracks open an egg. He wonders what Liam’s going to say when he sees Harry sleeping, under Louis’ duvet, in Louis’ clothing. He probably going to tell Niall, and Louis’ probably going to have to sit through another roommate meeting where Niall and Liam take on the role of his parents. Which always ends up with less tears and more alcohol than any confrontation he’s ever had with his parents. Also, the occasional joint.

 

There’s a soft cough behind him that causes him to almost burn his thumb on the edge of the pan when he turns around and watches Harry lifts himself up onto the worktop, coughing into the sleeve of Louis’ jumper.

 

‘I woke up and you were gone,’ Harry pouts, his voice croaky. Louis hopes he’s only this sweet and loving when he’s sick, because he doesn’t know how well he can handle Harry permanently being so cuddly. He’s sure that being friends with Harry Styles is not good for his mental health. He thinks he may die.

 

Louis chooses to brush off Harry’s comment, because Harry waking up and looking for him feels far too much like a relationship and Louis doesn’t want to trick himself into thinking that he has a chance with Harry. And then he thinks that he’s definitely going to die. Harry Styles is going to kill him.

 

Instead, he asks, ‘Hungry?’

 

Harry swings his legs and Louis thinks he looks like a young boy, bundled in baggy clothing with a red mouth and tired eyes. ‘A bit,’

 

‘Go back to the lounge and find something else to watch.’ Louis tells him.

 

Louis’ sitting next to Harry when Liam gets home, film forgotten on the television, as Harry tries to throw bits of eggy bread into Louis’ open mouth.

 

Liam raises his eyebrows when he looks up from his phone, and he smiles. Louis knows what he thinks, and he knows Liam probably going to tell Niall that he and Harry are dating the second he walks out the room.

 

‘Hey Harry,’ he greets, setting his laptop bag down and resting it against the leg of the coffee table.

 

‘Hi Liam,’ Harry beams. His voice is still raspy and airy.

 

‘Louis tells me you’ve been sick?’ Liam says, making it sound like a question, as he sits down in the armchair.

 

Harry nods and his knee bumps Louis’, legs crossed under the duvet. ‘I am, but Louis’ taking care of me today.’

 

‘I see,’ Liam says. He’s got that smile again, the one he gets whenever Louis starts talking about whichever boy he’s fucking. ‘Well, don’t mind me.’

 

He gets up and gives Louis one last look that tells Louis he’s getting interrogated when Harry leaves, before Liam pulls out his phone and wanders off to his bedroom.

 

Louis is in no way ready for a talk where he’ll be forced into explaining his relationship with Harry, so instead he turns to him. ‘It’s a bit late to walk you back now, I think. Do you want to stay over?’

 

Harry nods before stuffing an entire strip of eggy bread in his mouth.

 

Louis knows it’s a bad sign that the first thing Niall does when he gets home, after saying hello, is head straight to Liam’s room, but it’s fine, because he gets to half carry Harry to his room moments later, where he gets to tuck him under the blanket and climb in next to him.

 

It feels like the best sleep Louis’ had in years, curved around Harry with an arm over his waist.

 

 

 

 

 

Harry’s first livestream after he’s recovered is on the Tuesday, and Louis chokes when the feed comes to life to Harry naked but for a collar, one clothespin between his fingers and a paddle in his other hand.

 

‘Hi guys,’ Harry purrs, and Louis feels awful for wanting to hook his fingers into Harry’s collar and fuck his mouth. ’As you all know, I’ve been sick all week, and now that I’m finally better, I wanted to do something special.’

 

He doesn’t say much else before he’s leaning back against his pillows, his cock full against his tummy.

 

Louis watches in awe as he pinches his soft skin between his fingers before he’s clipping on a clothespin, letting out little hitched breaths each time.

 

His tummy’s glistening with precome and his cock looks pained by the time he’s pinned up his sides and up his inner thighs, his chest flushed red. Harry moans, loud and rich, when he pinches at his nipples, rolling them between his fingers until they’re hard little peaks, and then he pins each of them, whimpering afterward.

 

Three pegs fall off when he gets onto his hands and knees, angled towards the camera as he picks up his paddle. It was a gift; Louis remembers Harry talking about how much he loved it the first time he used it on cam. It’s in the shape of a heart, and Harry had posted a picture of his bum a day afterwards, covered in heart-shaped bruises.

 

Harry makes sweet, high sounds when he smacks himself, arching his back and leaning into it as the paddle slaps against the soft skin of the backs of his thighs and his arse.

 

His skin is pinks and reds after and he hisses when he leans back against the pillows again, pulling his knees up.

 

His cock jumps with each peg he takes off, his fingers just lightly tracing up the underside as he pulls each peg off, one after the other. It’s when he finally unclips the clothespins from each of his nipples that he curls his fingers around his cock and strokes himself properly.

 

He comes with a whine as his thighs spasm, splayed open as come dribbles over his tummy.

 

Louis shouldn’t come so hard from watching it, but he does.

 

 

 

 

 

It snows in the first weeks of December and Harry decides that hot chocolate at Lazaris should be a thing they do before every Psyc class.

 

Louis loves winter. He’s always loved making snow angels and helping his little sisters make snow men. He loves winter, because he associates it with his birthday and Christmas and gingerbread men.

 

Being friends with Harry means a new reason to love winter, because now winter also means Harry in scarves with pink cheeks and a red nose, sipping at hot chocolate and resting his boots on Louis’ knees under the table.

 

He loves winter that bit more now, because now it means Harry coming over because your flat is warm and _you have a better film collection than me_ and _I don’t have to wait ages to use the kettle_.

 

Louis doesn’t mind because he’s coming to realise that Harry just might be the light of his life and any time with him makes Louis the happiest man on earth.

 

But it of course also means that Liam starts to breathe down his neck about either telling Harry that he knows about what he does in his spare time, or stopping and unsubscribing, while Niall just gives him sad eyes every time he tickles Harry or Harry cuddles into him.

 

Louis tries to brush both of them off for as long as he can, reminding himself to never again live with friends who actually care about his wellbeing.

 

 

 

 

 

Louis knows there’s a problem when it feels weird for Harry to not be in his flat, borrowing a pair of his fluffy socks and drinking from Louis’ special mug. He knows it’s a problem, and he knows that both of his roommates are dying to bring it up and give confrontation what must be near a twentieth attempt.

 

Louis doesn’t want to talk about his feelings and he doesn’t want to acknowledge them, would rather just be happy with Harry shuffling around the kitchen and drinking away his tea supply without any complication from Niall and Liam, thank you very much.

 

It’s a Wednesday morning when Niall jokes that Harry should just move in, and Louis knows the joke holds a lot more weight than Niall seems to give it, but he sees Harry freeze with uncertainty where he’s sipping at a mug of hot water.

 

Louis makes Niall promise to never mention anything of the sort again until he’s ready to broach the Harry situation properly.

 

 

 

 

 

Friday’s livestream finds Harry grinning shyly at the camera and ruffling at his hair when the screen flashes to life.

 

He’s wearing a robe, and Louis leans back against his pillows and shifts his legs open wider as Harry starts talking, rich and low in his ears.

 

‘It seemed as though everyone loved my school-girl video, and I’ve been getting a lot of requests to do another video in a skirt.’ Harry toys with the loosely knotted drawstring on his robe and his cheeks pink. ‘Luckily, the costume shop down the road had something even better.’

 

Louis’ heart stutters at the sight of Harry in a navy cheerleading outfit, the skirt pleated and swaying against his hips with a tight top to match, cut at his waist and Louis wants to run his mouth and tongue and fingertips along the teasing strip of bare skin between skirt and top.

 

Harry’s mentioned his love for yoga and Pilates on various different Sunday Q&A’s, but Louis hadn’t ever really understood the benefit until he’s watching Harry lie on his side, his body a line of soft curves, before he curls his fingers behind the back of his knee and pulls up, stretching his leg out straight and holding it to his side, stretching himself open.

 

Louis wants to hold Harry’s legs open as he fucks him.

 

Harry comes just from fingering himself, fingers just barely tracing his cock before he’s shivering and whimpering and sucking his come from his fingertips.

 

 

 

 

 

_Cold. Come over and cuddle with me :( x_

 

Louis smiles at Harry’s message, biting at his thumbnail as he thinks.

 

He’s out shopping with Niall for Christmas presents, but the only person they still need to get something for is Liam and they kept him for last because all he really wants is a new Yankee Candle and some new batteries. Niall suggested they get him a Thin Blue Line box set too, because they’re nice. Liam is very lucky they’re friends with him.

 

Louis leaves Niall to find the box set, guessing they’ll probably have to order it in the end, telling him he’s going to see Harry.

 

Niall waves him off and goes back to skimming through the racks.

 

 

 

 

 

When Louis arrives, it’s fifteen minutes later and he’d holding a little cardboard box with cupcakes he’d picked up at the flea on his way, unable to resist the pull of festive and edible glitter-coated cupcakes.

 

Harry looks like he hasn’t fully woken up yet, mismatched socks on his feet with a thick oatmeal cardi hanging from his shoulders.

 

‘Cold,’ Harry says, arms wrapped around his middle, before he slinks back into bed and pulls the duvet up to his neck.

 

Louis zips off his boots and shrugs off his coat, resting it over Harry’s desk chair, before he slips into bed beside him. He pulls Louis’ arms around himself, holding them in place, tight around his waist.

 

Louis thinks he’s probably going to fall asleep.

 

‘I came all this way for you and brought you a cupcake and you’re just going to fall asleep on me?’ Louis asks, his nose pressed into Harry’s hair.

 

Harry hums but lets his arms go, nevertheless. ‘I’ve got Merlin on my laptop, if you want?’ he offers, trying to sit up against the headboard.

 

Louis nods while Harry reaches over him for his Mac. Harry’s fast asleep in minutes.

 

He’s two episodes into the third season when there’s a sharp knock to Harry’s door. Louis slowly extracts himself from the bed, trying not to wake Harry and to let him rest before he’s padding the short distance to the door and pulling it open.

 

The man standing there makes Louis stand up straighter when he looks up from his phone, smiling. One of his neatly plucked eyebrows cocks up.

 

‘You’re not Harry,’ he says slowly, and he looks pretty and amused and Louis feels a curl of jealousy because why is a man with a jaw chiselled from marble at Harry’s door? Harry never mentioned that he was rubbing shoulders with real-life Greek gods. He thinks friends should tell friends that they’re friends with Adonis.

 

‘Harry’s asleep at the moment. Anything I can help you with?’ Louis asks, folding his arms over his chest and smiling, trying not to come off as overly predatorial.

 

‘’Fraid not,’ the man laughs, shaking his head and patting the bag thrown over his shoulder. ‘Was meant to film with him today, but can’t really do that if he’s napping.’

 

‘Film?’ Louis asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

The man nods. ‘Yeah, film.’

 

He’s says it like it’s last word, and that it’s all he’s going to say about the subject.

 

‘Anyway, tell the princess that he’s a dick and he owes me taxi fare.’ The man says, giving Louis a wave before he’s turning on his heel.

 

‘Wait!’ Louis calls after him, leaning in the doorframe. He feels like a protective father, or boyfriend. Maybe father. Maybe. ‘I didn’t get your name,’

 

The man stops and turns back to face him, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He reaches up and scratches at where his beanie pushes back his hair, his fingers long with chunky rings on each. ‘Zayn,’ he answers, his smile tilting up more on the left, ‘and yourself?’

 

‘Louis,’ Louis tells him, finding himself smiling, despite himself. He always had a feeling that gods would be charismatic in person.

 

Zayn smiles, wide so that his big eyes crinkle at the corner.

 

‘Ah,’ he says, with a slow drag. ‘So you’re Louis.’

 

Louis doesn’t ask what he means, just watches him a bit longer, from his ratty jeans and ankles boots to his expensive looking coat. He waves him off before Zayn continues back down the corridor.

 

 

 

 

 

Harry’s going home in four days, Louis in five, so it’s safe to say that having Harry in his kitchen is going to be the last of real Harry he gets for the next three weeks.

 

It had seemed perfectly logical twenty minutes ago to make Harry make him flapjacks, because they had eggs and milk which would just go off if they left them, and Harry’s good with stuff like that, but after Harry had tied the little frill of an apron Niall’s mum had left after she’d come to visit around his waist and he’d rolled up his sleeves, Louis had had to stuff his hands into his pockets to stop himself reaching out and touching Harry.

 

Harry’s focused and Louis thinks he could gladly watch him for a few hours on end. Days, maybe. Or months and years and eternities. He’s got a smudge of flour on his cheek that Louis wants to wipe off with his thumb.

 

Louis’ eaten all that Harry’s made so far, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind, just smiles and dribbles another circle into the pan. He’d told himself he was going to tell Harry how he feels about him before he leaves, but with him in front of him, it seems impossible and instead he chews at his fingernail and eyes Harry, trying to work up the courage to talk to him.

 

Louis thinks Harry can probably feel the heat of it, because he pauses and looks over his shoulder, back at Louis, and he smiles.

 

‘You wanna help?’ he asks, and Louis wants to rest his hands on his waist and hold him, kiss the back of his neck and press his palm flat against Harry’s tummy.

 

Louis shakes himself from his thoughts and nods slightly before stepping toward Harry. He stands beside him, rather than behind him, and Harry edges sideways to give Louis more space.

 

‘I’ll carry on making them,’ Harry says, looking at Louis from under his fringe, ‘and you can start at making some more batter.’

 

Louis nods and reaches for the bowl before frowning. ‘How do I do that?’

 

Harry rolls his eyes but nudges the egg carton toward him with a soft smile and Louis wants to kiss him again and again.

 

‘First,’ Harry starts. He’s got laughter sitting in his throat, and Louis wonders when he became so fond of the boy next to him. ‘Use the whisk to beat an egg and two teaspoons of sugar together,’

 

Louis nods. He gets little fragments of eggshell into the mixture and he tries to scoop them out before Harry notices, but Harry giggles and he knows he wasn't successful.

 

He picks up the whisk and attempts to stir. Harry starts to giggle again and Louis pouts.

 

‘What?’ he whines, and Harry shakes his head. His eyes crinkle at the corners.

 

‘Nothing,’ Harry chirps. Louis wants to tickle him as retaliation.

 

Louis’ pout deepens before he sets the whisk down and folds his arm over his chest. ‘How do you whisk?’ he whines.

 

Harry shakes his head with a small, private smile before he moves the pan off the hob and he turns to Louis. ‘First step would of course be to pick up the whisk,’ he teases, and Louis wants to kiss him.

 

Louis rolls his eyes but does as he’s told. ‘And then?’ he asks.

 

‘And then you just whisk,’ Harry shrugs and Louis frowns.

 

‘You’re being mean,’ Louis gruffs, and Harry giggles around before there’s warm fingers wrapping around his wrist.

 

Louis refuses to believe that he’s really become such a cliché that his heart stutters when Harry touches him, but it does and his breath hitches as Harry starts to guide his hand.

 

‘It’s all in the wrist,’ Harry says softly, and he’s not smiling anymore, his eyebrows drawn and his eyes wide.

 

Louis lets Harry guide his wrist as he looks back at him. Harry doesn’t look back right away, but when he does, he draws his lower lip between his teeth and his eyes are wide and starry.

 

Louis’ still taking him in, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the boy in front of him has the milky way splashed into his irises and holds all of Louis’ desires between his lips when Harry leans in and there’s the gentlest of pressures against his mouth, soft and timid and warm, before it’s gone and Harry’s cheeks are pink with the sunset.

 

Louis’ mind is slow, black treacle poured between the cogs working inside his skull and all he can do is gawp dazedly as Harry seems to realise what he’s done.

 

Louis’ still standing with his fingers clutched to the handle of the whisk when Harry stutters out a reason to leave and stumbles out the kitchen in a flash, the front door banging closed softly.


	3. Chapter 3

 

‘I’m going home for Christmas, but I will send each and every one of you a video on the twenty fourth.’ Harry chirps into the camera, smiling wide.

 

On top of his head are red and green reindeer horns that he keeps adjusting, and Louis wants to smile because they’re still skew, despite his multiple attempts.

 

‘As always, you can just email me if you have any payment issues or email changes, so everything can go smoothly,’ he babbles, scratching idly at his shoulder, stretching the neck of the jumper.

 

Harry looks to be reading the comments, eyes flicking side to side as he reads over the stream of _yeah babe_ and _show me ur pretty ass_ , resulting in a sweet little curve of his mouth on the left.

 

Louis sighs. He hasn’t spoken to Harry in days and Harry’s going home in less than a twenty four hours and Louis’ tired and confused and he has no idea what to do.

 

He wants to ask Harry about the kiss, try and understand maybe, but every time he tries to word his thoughts, he ends up stuck and he leaves countless messages unsent. The only form of comfort he gets is that Harry also looks a bit tired, the hint of dark shadows taking residence under his sparkly eyes.

 

He knows he shouldn’t be watching Harry, not when they’re currently not speaking. He has no idea why they aren’t talking, no idea if Harry’s mad at him. He knows he shouldn’t be watching Harry when they’re in a state of possible limbo.

 

He sighs, leaning his chin into his palm as he tries to push down the self-hatred that climbs up the back of his throat as Harry starts to tease his jumper down his shoulder, showing off the delicate skin as simple kick into foreplay.

 

 

 

 

 

When Louis gets home, his youngest sister, Zoe, opens the door and leaps into his arms before he even has his first words out.

 

His mum’s head pops out from the kitchen before she’s walking down the passage towards him, wiping her hands off on her jean-clad thighs and reaching for him as he deposits his sister back down on the snowy doorstep.

 

He’s pulled inside, his mum calling for his dad to come down and lug his suitcase upstairs for him. He’s barely given time to shrug off his jacket and kick off his boots before he’s being shuffled into the kitchen and poured a glass of wine as his sister climbs into his lap, his father and other sister, Lindy, rushing downstairs to greet him.

 

 

 

 

 

Being home is as good an escape as Louis could have ever dreamed for.

 

He doesn’t have the time to think about Harry and worry about Harry and fantasize about Harry when he’s trying to help his mum do some desperate last-minute Christmas shopping, or when he’s busy building snowmen with the girls in the front. The only time he really is given opportunity to think about him is when the girls demand to know more about him, a train of thought of theirs which Louis has learnt can be silenced by biscuits and hot chocolate.

 

Admittedly, the first time he properly thinks of Harry is on his birthday when he wakes up to multiple birthday messages on his phone, one simple one from Harry ( _happy birthday lou. i got you a present. i wrapped it myself x_ ) which makes him feel a bit shit in his tummy, as well as a new email.

 

One look at the email address reminds him of Harry’s broadcast and that this is probably his promised Christmas video.

 

He isn’t going to watch it, he swears he isn’t, not when Harry’s sending a message like  _happy birthday lou, i got you a present. i wrapped it myself x_ , but it’s his birthday and he rationalizes that he paid for it so he has a right to watch it and so he can treat himself to this little thing, worry about after-effects later.

 

The video starts with Harry sitting on his calves on his mattress, knees spread in a V with his eyes lined neatly in dark kohl and a fluffy Father Christmas hat pulled down over his hair, so that wisps stick out from the fluffy rim and tickle at his forehead. He’s just wearing a plain black jumper, dark against the alabaster skin of his neck and his thighs.

 

Louis always feels as though he’s intruding in the first few minutes of Harry’s videos, like he shouldn’t be watching as Harry teases his hands down his chest before drawing back up, pulling the hem of his jersey up to under his arms before he’s pinching at the hardened buds of his nipples, eyes fluttering shut and lip sucked in-between his teeth as his hips start to shift in a lazy search for friction, cock hidden by simple white knickers, white lace frilling against the waistband and leg holes and pressing against his skin.

 

But Louis always loses clouds of guilt when Harry touches himself, because Harry touching himself is a glorious sight that can clear his mind and render him near blind to the world.

 

Harry strokes his cock slowly, teasing himself, as his hips flick up into it. He doesn’t linger for long, however, before he’s abandoning his flushed cock to get his fingers wet with lube instead.

 

He makes sugary sweet noises as he fingers himself, soft little gasps and breaths of pleasure as he strains to fuck himself with two fingers, wrist bent at an awkward angle as his back arches and his hips jerk.

 

He’s sweating, Louis can see it shining on his neck from the video, as his back arches and his wrist seems to still, his fingers twitching and his brow furrowed before he reaches for the cherry-red bullet lying against his duvet.

 

He draws his fingers out, shaking them off before he squeezes more lube onto his fingers, rubbing them over the small vibe until the glitter-specked body is wet and he manoeuvres down onto his side, brushing his jumper up under his underarms, the waistband of his knickers cutting into the softness at his hips so that they can rest under the curve of his arse but still cover his cock, curved along his hip with a wet, see-through patch where his head presses against the gauzy fabric.

 

His hand disappears behind himself before he’s sighing happily, eyes slipping closed as his wrist shifts and he props one leg up.

 

He fucks himself slowly with the vibe, the buzz of it terribly soft and painted over as Harry moans slowly, his fingers still resting against the duvet pinching at the cover as he rests his head on his shoulder, eyes closed and mouth open.

 

His cock twitches against its constraints before Harry bites into his lower lip, and Louis watches it turn from rosy-coloured to the same cherry red as his vibe. Harry takes a deep, shuddery breath when he draws the toy out and releases his finger from the button, showing it to the camera and smiling lazily, before he rolls onto his front.

 

He brushes the hem of the jumper up his back as best he can with his wrist, up to just under his ribs, before he reaches back to pull at the waistband of his panties where it rests beneath his bum, pulling it up over the supple skin before he reaches for the elastic of the leg hole and draws it to the side, pulling it as much as the flimsy fabric will allow, before he brings the hand clasping the vibe back, pressing the rounded point of it against his hole and pressing slowly.

 

His hips shift against the duvet as he presses the entire short length inside himself, holding to the small base as he presses it on again. His hips press up into it as his arm strains, holding his panties to the side as he draws the toy in and out slowly. Louis’ transfixed, watching the way he swallows it perfectly.

 

Harry humps against the mattress, whining and moaning as he fucks himself faster. He presses his face into his pillow, biting at it and squeezing his eyes shut as his hips grind hard into the duvet, the vibe buzzing softly as Harry thrusts it inside himself.

 

He comes with a sweet whimper, his hips bucking weakly before he draws the bullet from himself and sets it down on the duvet.

 

There’s a mumble of speech from the person behind the camera and Harry giggles softly before blowing a kiss to the camera, eyes glazed and cheeks pink, before the video ends.

 

 

 

 

For Christmas, Louis gets socks and photo frames from his sisters, and money from his parents, even more money from his nan.

 

He spends the day alternating between playing outside in the snow and coming inside to stuff himself full of biscuits and watch whatever Christmas film is on.

 

It’s after a sherry and three glasses of white wine that he gets the guts to call Harry, stepping into the kitchen, even though he’s sure his dad is going to wander in ‘for no reason’, before he calls him.

 

He wraps his arm around his middle and leans back against the worktop before Harry picks up.

 

It’s a short call, but it’s enough to make Louis’ day, because Harry sounds too tipsy to remember that he’s not been talking to Louis and he’s giggling into Louis’ ear before there’s the voice of Harry’s brother and Harry’s telling him he has to go, sounding dreadfully disappointed.

 

 

 

 

Lindy climbs into bed obligingly as Louis tucks Zoe in, kissing her forehead before he goes to kiss Lindy’s. He’s waiting for the pleas of _bedtime story!_ and they come right when expected.

 

‘Please will you tell us a bedtime story Lou,’ Lindy whines, reaching up and grabbing for his wrist.

 

Louis smiles and pretends to put up a fight for a bit longer, until Zoe’s repeating pretty pretty pretty pretty please until Louis thinks her face might turn blue.

 

He sits down at the foot of Zoe’s bed and watches as she unravels his neat job of tucking her in before Lindy springs out of bed to come sit on Zoe’s too.

 

‘And what story would we like to hear tonight?’ he asks, crossing his legs and squeezing in to share the small mattress with the two girls.

 

‘Tell us more about the boy!’ Lindy exclaims, Zoe nodding along, and Louis shakes his head but finally gives in.

 

He tells them a story of a prince and a commoner and how the commoner falls in love with the prince before he meets him while out hunting, and of how he falls madly for the young prince. He starts to properly make it up after that point, telling the girls about how the commoner slays the dragon to win the prince’s heart, and how they rule the kingdom together, living happily ever after.

 

Zoe’s fallen asleep by the end, so Louis holds his finger to his lips as he shoos her back to her bed, tucking the duvet up to her chin and kissing her forehead.

 

‘Goodnight Lindy,’ he whispers and she smiles at him, closing her eyes as he turns to tip-toe out.

 

He’s about to press the light switch down when Lindy sits up.

 

‘Lou?’ she says softly, and Louis raises his eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. ‘Promise you’ll let us meet him?’

 

Louis smiles and shakes his head.

 

‘There’s nothing going on with me and him, but I promise.’

 

Lindy nods and slumps back down onto her pillows and Louis’ fingers poise to flick the lights off.

 

‘Lou?’ Lindy says again, and Louis groans jokingly and smiles when he looks back at her. ‘The Louis I know isn’t afraid of any princes or any dragons.’

 

Her words are stuck in his mind until he falls asleep.

 

 

 

 

Louis’ fingers hover over his mouse-pad, his teeth digging into his lower lip.

 

He hovers over delete before he runs his fingers through his hair, biting into his lower lip.

 

He knows he should delete everything, so that he can finally get over himself and ask Harry out without a thundercloud of guilt hovering over him, erase it all so that when he finally does tell Harry, it won’t be so bad.

 

He knows he should, but it’s harder in practice than in theory when he thinks about getting rid of all of them, every video that he’s been saving for the past two or so years. Even the one with him trying to stay quiet and failing miserably as he rides a thick, glittery dildo.

 

In the end he decides he’ll do it bit by bit, deleting two videos a day until his folders are empty.

 

It’s a lot more difficult than anticipated.

 

 

 

 

Lindy’s words stick with him the rest of his stay, bouncing from wall to wall of his skull the whole train ride back, clear in his thoughts when he unlocks the flat and is greeted by silence, Liam and Niall still away.

 

His thoughts are louder then, surrounded by the first pure silence he’s found in weeks.

 

His thoughts are so loud that he’s so focussed on them, he doesn’t even process the fact that he’s pulled his coat back on until he’s out the door and halfway to Harry’s.

 

 

 

 

His heart is pounding as he knocks on Harry’s door, his hands almost shaking as he tries to calm his breathing.

 

Harry pulls open the door and he’s smiling, grinning with flushed cheeks, and Louis notes how his smile flickers and pink blooms faintly on his cheeks when Harry looks at him. Louis feels nourished, like he’s been starved and just seeing Harry fulfils him. His hair is rumpled, and his fists are balled up in the sleeves of a hideous Christmas jumper.

 

There’s music coming from his room, and when Louis looks past him, he can see who he remembers as Zayn sitting at Harry’s desk and fiddling with his laptop, his smile matching Harry’s.

 

Harry steps out of his room and clicks his door closed behind him, and Louis takes a deep breath as Harry’s mouth quirks up at the corner.

 

‘Louis,’ he says, slow and warm and Louis swallows, licks over his upper lip and counts his heartbeats as Harry blinks in slow motion, a sweep of dark eyelashes against his cheeks before his eyes are focussing back on Louis, clear and crisp as morning skies.

 

He knows Harry will probably say more if he doesn’t say anything, and it’s not that he doesn’t want to speak to Harry, it’s just that if Harry speaks then Louis will lose his nerve.

 

Louis’ throat is dry and his heart pounds loud enough that Harry can probably hear it and a sweet frown pinches between Harry’s eyebrows as he smiles confusedly at Louis’ prolonged silence and he opens his mouth, about to speak, and Louis takes a deep breath before he reaches out for him, one arm reaching for his waist and the other reaching for his jaw.

 

He tilts Harry’s face up as his fingers curl into the wool of his jumper and he kisses him, desperately sweet. Harry makes a surprised sound, stiff in Louis’ hold, before he melts into Louis as Louis kisses him again.

 

Harry’s mouth is soft, yielding against his frantic kiss as he slots their lips together and slips his hand down Harry’s back, resting at the curve of his spine.

 

Harry kisses back eagerly, his hands coming up to cup at Louis’ jaw as Louis lets both hands drop to rest at the small of his back, pulling Harry close as he kisses him until his mouth parts.

 

Harry’s breath is soft when Louis swallows it down, leaning into it so that Harry leans back. Harry’s shoulders knock back against his front door and he smiles against Louis’ lips and Louis slips his hands into the tight denim of his back pockets, pulling harry closer as he kisses him against the door.

 

Harry’s laughing, almost giggling, into his mouth and it fills Louis with energy, so that he’s grinning as their kiss reverts back to quick pecks, easy and bubbly. Harry pulls kisses him and holds him in place by his jaw as he smiles, Louis smiling into it so that his lips draw back and their teeth clack. Harry giggles again, and Louis copies, happiness bursting in his chest.

 

When he draws back, Harry’s grinning and his cheeks are pink and he knows he must be no different because his cheeks are starting to ache. His fingers flex where they’re stuffed into Harry’s back pockets and Harry blinks, biting his lip sweetly.

 

‘Go on a date with me.’ Louis blurts, words bubbling up and his lips doing nothing to stop them.

 

Harry grins, so that his eyes crinkle at the corners and Louis thinks he’s dreaming, must be, because Harry kissed him back and he’s radiant.

 

‘Eloquent,’ Harry teases, and Louis wants to kiss him again, so he does.

 

Harry’s eyes flutter closed as Louis kisses him slowly, gently so that Harry’s smile slips a little and his fingers curl into his hair. Louis draws back and grins.

 

‘Shut up and go on a date with me.’

 

Harry bites his lip again and his fingers twitch in his hair and Louis’ going to explode when he dips his chin and nods.

 

 

 

 

 

There’s a lot of stuff that Louis could spend money on. There is more than a lot of stuff Louis needs to spend money on.

 

But with the knowledge that Louis has a date with Harry in less than two days, he decides that it’s finally time for him to end his subscription.

 

The last livestream he watches is Wednesday evening’s, where Harry comes on screen in a schoolgirl uniform and white thigh-highs, summing up his Christmas holiday for his viewers before he sneaks his hands under his navy skirt.

 

He pouts for the camera as he folds the hem of the skirt up, showing off his cock, getting hard in his fist.

 

He giggles softly as he thumbs over his tip. ‘Another thing I accomplished this holiday was breaking my favourite toy. I worked it too hard and it just died,’ he says, lower lip jutting out.

 

‘I’ve now learnt my lesson to always pack more than one vibrator when I’m going away for more than a week because apparently vibrators were not made to match my libido for more than a few days.’

 

Harry fingers himself, bent over in front of his webcam with his cheek rubbing against his duvet, and as he does, Louis gets an idea for what to do with some of his Christmas money.

 

Harry comes with a sweet mewl and whimper, turning back to face the camera with pink cheeks and a sweet smile as he licks his come from his fingers. Louis watches the donations amount go up, the comment thread buzzing alive as Harry hollows his cheeks around his finger.

 

Louis gets up once Harry ends the feed to wash his hands, tucking himself back into his pants before he goes to sit at his desk, lifting his laptop from his bed and setting it down in front of himself and navigating back to Harry’s site.

 

One of the links along the top, underneath the updated header that now has Harry lying on his side, wearing white knickers that leave his cock sticking out from the waistband and matching thigh high socks pulled halfway up his thick thighs, reads _Wishlist_ and Louis clicks on it, being redirected to Amazon.

 

Most of Harry’s wishlist is underwear, lube and dildos, but Louis feels an awful tug at his heart because Harry also has things like Pokémon on his wishlist.

 

He bookmarks the page after he settles on a fat, long dildo, bubblegum pink and flecked with glitter. Harry has a few similar, but Louis would love to see him stuffed full of this particular toy, pinching at his nipples as he fucks himself with the toy and nudges the blunt head against his spot and comes all over himself.

 

The image alone has his cock giving a sensitive twitch of interest, and Louis types in his details and pays for the toy before his mind manages to wander further off.

 

 

 

 

Louis’ nervous, sweating-and-pacing type nervous.

 

He has half an hour before he should leave for the restaurant and the longer he stares at the clock, the more certain he is that the minute hand is slowly creeping backwards rather than forwards.

 

He watches the seconds hand creep around the full face, doing an entire revolution before he takes a deep breath and decides he can be a half hour early because waiting at home is doing nothing but making him sweat.

 

He picks up his phone from the worktop before pulling his jacket from the back of the couch and shrugging it on.

 

 

It’s a five minute walk to get there and Louis sits to the right of the restaurant, against the window.

 

He orders himself water before he pulls out his phone, starting to outline his shopping list that quickly turns into a list of stuff he needs to do before term officially starts again before there’s a slight cough at his side.

 

A look at the time at the top of his screen tells him that there’s still another seventeen minutes before he’s technically meant to arrive, but when he looks up, Harry’s looking down at him and smiling nervously.

 

‘And here I was thinking that I was going to be early,’ Harry laughs, slipping into the chair opposite Louis.

 

Louis’ throat seems to want to close up and he doesn’t get it, because this is Harry. This is Harry who slept on Louis and slept on Louis’ couch and who Louis nursed through sickness and who still thinks Knock Knock jokes are funny. This is also Harry who Louis has seen naked and spread out as he’d tried out a Fucking Machine for the first time.

 

‘Have you ordered yet?’ Harry asks when Louis offers no conversation and Louis shakes his head quickly, taking a sip from his water as Harry waves a waitress over, asking for a lemonade.

 

Conversation doesn’t come. A lump sits in Louis’ throat as he stares at Harry across from him, watches him fidget with his napkin after their weak attempts at small talk had fallen flat.

 

Harry sips at his lemonade and looks around the restaurant as it fills up while Louis tries to refuse the urge to pull out his phone just to give himself something to do that isn’t staring and making Harry uncomfortable.

 

It’s just Harry, but that fact that it’s Harry and it’s a date has Louis stuck and speechless and he saves himself from saying thank god aloud when the waiter comes with their food.

 

They eat in silence and Louis keeps his eyes glued to his plate until their waiter is clearing it away and he shifts his gaze to his hands, fingers linked over the tablecloth as Harry sighs.

 

‘Louis, we’re obviously both very nervous,’ Harry sighs, and oh god, this is where they both agree that they’re better as friends and that them going out isn’t going to work. But instead: ‘so why don’t we get out of here?’

 

Louis’ nodding and asking for the bill before Harry can finish his question.

 

 

 

 

He unlocks his front door and ushers Harry through. They’re quiet, but Louis doesn’t feel as claustrophobic and terrified when he walks silently alongside Harry as when he had been sitting across from him.

 

Harry’s already walking into his kitchen while Louis locks the door after them, dropping his keys onto the side-table before following after him.

 

He watches Harry pull the stopper from the wine chilling in the fridge door before he plucks two glasses from the drying rack, setting them down on the worktop for Harry to pour into.

 

Harry pushes himself up to sit on the counter, pinching at the stem of his glass and taking a slow sip before he’s giggling, shaking his head.

 

‘Well, that was a disaster,’ he says, almost to himself, and Louis can’t help but agree.

 

‘Yeah, I don’t know what happened,’ Louis says, leaning back against the worktop just to the left of Harry, mere centimetres from where his thighs rest. ‘I think I was just so terrified by the thought of fucking up that I fucked up.’

 

Harry hums and leans back, looking down at Louis. ‘Yeah, I was scared I was going to start babbling that I couldn’t even talk.’

 

Louis sets his glass back down on the worktop before turning to face Harry completely, slotting between his knees and looking up at him, frowning slightly.

 

‘We’re not going to just pretend this never happened just because of a shitty date, right? We can’t just give up just because we both fucked up a bit, right?’

 

Harry sets his wineglass down next to Louis’ before he looks back at him, tilting his chin down. Louis doesn’t understand why this was so difficult earlier, why he could hardly breathe when now he just wants to breathe Harry in.

 

‘I like you Louis,’ Harry says, his voice soft as he lifts a hand and Louis thinks in any other situation he would have jumped at the feather light touch to his cheek as Harry’s fingertips press against his skin before Harry’s cupping his jaw. ‘I like you too much to give up because you’re a lousy date.’

 

Louis’ about to defend his honour when Harry kisses him, and nothing else seems to matter for the time-being.

 

 

 

 

They don’t get a chance for a second date before school starts, and then Louis’ drowning in too much work to even properly think about Harry. The great part of having so much work is that he finally seems to get over his terminated subscription and almost empty video folder.

 

Harry’s busy too, so at least Louis doesn’t feel too shit when they have to bump back their second but what Harry wants to pretend is still their first date by another week. Harry just sends him a smiley face back to his message and three xxx’s.

 

Louis groans when he has to wake up on Thursday for his psych lecture. The only thing that makes it even somewhat bearable is that he’ll have Harry next to him, trying to lean as close to him as possible in their separate seats.

 

When he arrives, Harry’s already there, eyes closed and hair flat with his body wrapped in a large mess of wool. Louis sits down next to him and nudges their knees together.

 

‘Tired?’ Louis asks him, receiving a slight nod in response and Harry’s lips curving into a smile as he blinks his eyes open. ‘Lazaris after?’

 

Harry nods again before he turns to face the front and pay attention while Louis tries to draw his eyes away from his profile.

 

They walk there together, and Louis can’t help but think about how despite the fact that they kiss every so often and touch their fingers together almost shyly, the only thing that’s different with how they act together now is that they have a definite date scheduled for a week’s time, whereas before Christmas holidays, Louis was whining and pining. He will never understand how all it took were the sleepy words of a nine-year old to make him get the courage to finally try for what he wanted.

 

Louis’ still thinking about this, awed about this, when they sit down and Harry’s fingers nudges shyly at his, before they’re holding hands, right on top of the table.

 

 

 

 

‘It has to be special,’ Harry whines, tucking his feet under himself on the couch. Louis wants to pull him into his lap and cuddle him. Louis had suggested that for their second date they just go to the cinema, because they’ve both been dying to see the same film and it seems only logical to him, but Harry didn’t seem as fond of his idea as he was.

 

‘We tried to make the last one special and look how that worked out.’ Louis quips before Harry elbows him and leans against his side.

 

‘It needs to be more special then,’ Harry pouts, and Louis wants to kiss him but he doesn’t know if they’re there yet.

 

‘Fine,’ he says then, turning to face Harry and letting his eyes drop to his lips, tracking over the jut of his lower, ‘if you want special, then you can be in charge of planning.’

 

Harry folds his arms over his chest and juts his chin up. ‘Fine, I will.’

 

 And Louis can’t help but reach for Harry and kiss him until Harry’s starry-eyed, pressed against the couch.

 

 

 

 

 

‘Look at them,’ Harry says, pressing his hands up against the glass, eyes flicking to watch the colourful blur of the tropical fish.

 

Louis hadn’t been surprised when Harry had brought him to the aquarium. The aquarium wasn’t on the top of his list for things he thought Harry might plan for their Special Second Date, but it fits Harry and as he had paid for both their admission fees, he’d explained to Louis that:

 

‘To make it special, I wanted to bring you to my favourite place.’

 

And so Louis had just taken his hand and let Harry lead him around, trying not to smile too fondly as Harry lead him through all the sections and pressed up too close to the windows of the shark pool.

 

Harry makes him put his hand in the anemone tank, doing it with him and giggling when the anemone latches onto his finger. Louis wants to kiss him, while he’s got his hand in freezing cold water and Harry’s trying not to seem as excited as he is, so he does, gentle and shy so that Harry blushes and leads him away to the deep-sea section.

 

Harry has to hold Louis’ hand to stop him tapping at the glass of the different species, pulling him away from the crabs until they end up in front of the jellyfish, where Harry pulls him down onto the first step.

 

It’s dreamy, sitting with Harry and watching the enormous creatures. Yet it somehow ends with them making out on the steps until little children run in and they pull apart, cheeks pink but pinkies linked before they run out of the exhibit, running up the ramps to get to the turtles.

 

When Louis’ sure they’re deep enough into the turtle section and that the only living creatures around to notice them would be the turtles themselves, he takes Harry’s hands and steps him back until his shoulders are brushing against the glass, ducking in to press their lips together.

 

‘Thank you for bringing me here,’ he tells him, voice soft. ‘Our next date, I’m taking you to my favourite place.’

 

Harry kisses him then, letting go of one of his hands to reach for Louis’ jaw, his fingers ghosting just behind his ear.

 

‘Show me something special,’ he says with a slight smile before Louis’ kissing him again, trying to step as close into his space as publicly polite.

 

 

 

 

He pushes open Harry’s door and Harry asks him: ‘Are we here?’

 

Louis hums, surveying Niall’s work before he comes up behind Harry, making quick work of untying the knot before he pulls the blindfold from Harry’s eyes, watching his forehead wrinkle in confusion.

 

Louis had come by his room at six pm exactly, had presented him with a blindfold, before he’d covered Harry’s eyes and taken hold of his hand, leading him out and closing the door after them.

 

Niall had snuck in moments after, starting to set up for them, as Louis had lead Harry around the campus, through the different quads and around the buildings and to all the different dorms, before his phone had vibrated with message from Niall that he was done and Louis could come back. He’d lead Harry back up to his room, not giving him a hint to where he was going, before Harry was allowed to open his eyes.

 

‘This is my room.’ Harry says simply, taking in the three lit candles and the bottle of wine on his desk, the crème brulee set out on the carpet beside his bed.

 

‘You told me to take you somewhere I find special,’ Louis says, standing still as Harry turns to face him. ‘And I brought you here, because anywhere is special if you’re there.’

 

Harry’s face lights up before he reaches for Louis, hands on his cheeks as he kisses him.

 

‘You’re so lame,’ Harry teases, once he’s pulled back. Louis smiles and sits down on his carpet, pulling Harry down after him.

 

Hours later, Harry sips at his wine as his knee bumps Louis’, his shoulders slumped forward as he giggles.

 

Louis leans in closer to Harry, so that their thighs press together as he leans back against the side of his bed, legs straight so that his toes are just shy of touching Harry’s cupboard.

Harry leans his head back on the mattress after he sets his wineglass down on the carpet, head lolling to the side so he can look at Louis with drooping eyes.

 

‘Why didn't we do this before?’ he asks, sounding genuinely curious as he tilts his chin and looks at Louis with Bambi eyes.

 

Louis grins at him and leans back, nudging their heads together, eyes resting on Harry’s lips. ‘Because you’re scary,’

 

 Harry frowns and sits up, and Louis wants to pull him back, kiss him and kiss his forehead and cuddle him. ‘I’m not scary,’ he whines, pouting.

 

 Louis reaches up and rests his thumb on his jutting lower lip.

 

 ‘You don’t understand how much you terrify me,’ Louis murmurs, and Harry’s eyes flutter shut, his lips parting slightly, and Louis’ eyes flick to watch the steady rise and fall of his chest before he leans in and presses his lips to Harry’s forehead, kissing his forehead gently so that Harry smiles into it.

 

He wants to fuck him. It’s awful, but he wants to fuck him until he's gasping and panting, sweating in Louis' arms as he claws at his back.

 

Harry breaks their eye contact with a slow flutter of his eyelashes, looking back down at his empty glass and licking over his lower lip.

 

God, Louis wants to fuck him.

 

Harry turns to look at him and turns his body to face Louis a pinch more. His knees fall open, slightly, as his tongue slides along his lower lip.

 

'Are you going to kiss me?' Harry asks, soft and shy-sounding, but the way his eyes glitter is anything but shy.

 

Harry's knees spread a twitch apart and Louis gulps before dragging his eyes back to Harry's face, settling on his lips. He nods.

 

Harry barely has time to grin before Louis' reaching for him again with more intent, pulling him in so he can kiss him slowly. Harry makes a soft sound in the back of his throat as he lifts a hand to rest flat on Louis' chest, just left of his heartbeat. Harry pulls back, pressing his cheek against Louis’ neck, hair tickling behind his ear.

 

‘Louis,’ he breathes against his neck, and Louis hums, ‘This is our third date.’

 

Louis nods, reaching for Harry’s chin so that he can kiss him again.

 

‘You know what three dates means,’ Harry says softly, cheeks going pink. Louis frowns, before his cheeks start to pull in an understanding grin.

 

‘Don’t make me say it,’ Harry whines, nuzzling at Louis’ neck, and when he kisses Louis again, he can taste the wine, but Harry’s tongue is sharp beneath it.

 

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Louis says, just to tease him.

 

Harry whines, before he’s brushing his lips to the shell of Louis’ ear and breathing out _will you fuck me?_

 

Louis bites down into Harry's lower lip and Harry puffs out hot breath as his fingers curl in Louis' shirt as Louis nods, possibly overeager, before Harry’s scrambling to get upright, pulling Louis with him and falling down onto his bed straight after.

 

They snog on his bed a bit, until Louis can feel Harry hard against his thigh and he slots his thigh between Harry’s, feeling Harry buck up against it.

 

Louis feels a bit light-headed when Harry starts pulling off his clothing, sucking on Louis’ tongue until they’re bare and pressed against each other.

 

 Harry must guess that Louis’ not in a coherent state just yet, still too dazed by the fact that he’s about to fuck Harry Styles, _cumwhoreharry_ , because Harry opens himself up and tears open the condom with his teeth before Louis slicks himself up.

 

 Harry rolls over onto his front, resting on his forearms so that Louis can still kiss him easily as he gets behind him, his mind scrabbling to engrave every second of what’s happening into his memory.

 

Harry looks back at him over his shoulder, lip caught between teeth and a slight frown between his eyebrows, as Louis lines himself up.

 

His palms are sweating were they rest in the crook of Harry’s underarms, his cock pressing at Harry’s rim as he gives him a last eyebrow raise, wanting to ask him if he’s sure about this, if he’s ready.

 

Harry meets his eyes and the slight frown dissolves as he smiles slowly, his lips pinching up at the corners.

 

Louis takes that as go ahead, pressing his hips forward. Harry’s body gives way easily and Harry’s eyes slip shut as Louis presses himself inside, nudging his hips forward until he’s buried to the hilt, his hips flush to Harry’s arse.

 

He knows his breathing’s sped up a little, and he can hear that Harry’s has too, as he takes a moment to collect himself.

 

Harry’s tight around him, heavenly, and Louis takes a deep breath before drawing his hips back slowly.

 

He moves one hand to rest it on Harry’s waist, fitting his fingers just under his ribs, his skin warm to the touch. He presses back in slow, so that when Harry breathes out below him, it’s shaky.

 

Louis keeps it slow, pressing his weight down on Harry’s waist to keep him flat as Louis works low moans and soft, pleased sounds from him. He can feel the sweat gathering at the nape of his neck.

 

Harry’s got his eyes squeezed shut, fingers curled in the duvet with soft pants bubbling out from his lips as Louis fucks him in a slow teasing grind. He feels like the embodiment euphoria, wrapped around him and hot beneath him.

 

Louis’ hand slips from his waist, fingers instead gripping onto the duvet as his knees spread wider so that he can fuck Harry deeper, speed up a bit. Harry reaches back then, biting his lower lip as his hand grabs at Louis’ arse, fingers digging into the flesh to keep Louis deep as the soft sounds spilling from his lips turn increasingly higher, sweeter almost.

 

When Harry opens his eyes to look back at him, they’re heavy-lidded and his mouth is slack and Louis wants to kiss him.

He lowers his weight to press along Harry’s back, curved over him as he fucks him, Harry’s fingers gripping tight to his flesh.

 

Harry twists his neck to face him better, cheeks flushed and hair starting to droop as Louis leans in to kiss him, slotting their lips together as Harry tries to arch up, kiss him deeper.

 

Harry draws back from the kiss, eyes squeezed shut and mouth swollen as a sweet little moan sounds from his throat and Louis aims to rub up against his spot. The sounds become constant then, Louis’ cock rubbing against his spot with each quickening stroke as Harry turns his face into the pillow, gasping as Louis noses at his neck, kissing at the nape where sweat gathers.

 

Louis sucks his tongue into his mouth, fucking him faster as Harry’s hand falls away, returning to grab fistfuls of the duvet as his hips shift back to meet Louis’.

 

His hands find Harry’s as he presses a kiss to where presses against skin at the top of his spine, his fingers fitting between Harry’s as he kisses up his neck and their fingers slot together.

 

He kisses him softly, just behind his ear, condescending to where he fucks him properly, hips fast as he grinds against Harry’s arse.

 

Harry locks their hands together, Louis sliding them up the mattress to rest beside Harry’s head as he bites softly at the lightly bruised skin of his neck, grazing his teeth gently before he nips, Harry moaning in return.

 

Louis’ going to come, can feel warmth spreading from his centre to his toes as he fucks Harry harder, deeper, working out loud moans as he bites into his lower lip as his body tenses and he comes, fingers clenching in Harry’s grip.

 

His hips slow as he comes down, body filling with warm laziness as he pulls out. He stays pressed along Harry’s back, pushing himself up on his elbow as Harry twists to kiss him again, slow and sweet, but spiked with need underneath.

 

Louis pushes off Harry’s body to roll him onto his front before Louis settles down again, along his side.

 

Harry’s gorgeous, flushed down his neck and cock hard against his tummy, dripping at the tip. Louis licks at his palm before he curls his fingers around him.

 

He goes into it like he knows Harry needs, grasping him tight in his hand as he works his hand quickly over his length. He gathers the bead of precome bubbling from his tip with his thumb, smoothing it down as he flicks his wrist, squeezing his fingers tight just under the tip before stroking back down.

 

Louis shuffles further down the bed, a small lapse in his rhythm, so that he can dip his head to mouth at Harry’s balls, puffing out hot air against his hairless flesh.

 

Harry whines, his legs splayed wide as Louis licks at his sac, before he reaches down to twist his fingers into Louis’ hair, tugging lightly as his hips fuck up into his grip.

 

Louis licks up from his balls, along the spine of his cock as he stills his hand and fondles Harry’s balls with the other, rolling them in his palm as his flicks his tongue just under Harry’s head, watching another bead of precome dribble from Harry’s silky head before he’s wrapping his lips around his tip, sucking him down halfway and working his fist over what he can’t reach as Harry’s legs kick in, his thighs pressing against Louis’ ears as his fingers pull at his hair, back arched and mouth wet and red as his eyes squeeze shut and his back arches.

 

‘I’m-’ Harry whimpers, his thighs trembling as he pulls Louis’ hair.

 

Louis pulls back and carries on stroking Harry’s cock, earning a kittenish keen from Harry as his toes curl.

 

‘Harry,’ Louis says softly, squeezing tight under his head and to his sac at the same time and Harry moans before his eyes blink open, pupils blown. His teeth dig into his lower lip as Louis feels more wet dribble from his cock.

 

‘Are you going to come for me, darling?’ Louis asks, just as soft, and Harry whines and nods, his hips fucking up desperately into Louis’ grip. Louis leans in to kiss at the inside of Harry’s knee, gentle, before he looks back up at Harry. ‘Come on sweetheart, come for me. Show me how good you are.’

 

Harry moans before his jaw goes slack, body arched up as his cock kicks in Louis’ hold, spurting up over his tummy. His balls draw tight, giving Louis a perfect view of his lube-slick hole when he looks down between his legs.

 

He strokes Harry through it, until he gives a final moan, low and soft, and Louis lets his cock fall back against his tummy, spent.

 

He trails his fingers through the mess on Harry’s tummy, catching his come on his fingertips before he lifts them to his lips, sucking them in to taste him. He’s sweet, a healthy boy, and Louis gathers more up before his brings his fingers to Harry’s lips, still parted as he tries to catch his breath.

 

Harry blinks up at him slowly before he opens his mouth for Louis, sucking his fingers in and running his tongue over each of them as his eyes flutter.

 

Afterward, Louis pulls Harry into his side, wrestling to get them under the duvet after deciding that they can wait a while before they take a shower.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite his prior intentions of shuffling himself and Harry into a shower to wash themselves off before snuggling back up, Louis isn’t disappointed when he wakes up at too-goddam-early with Harry plastered on his chest, sunlight from his window shining in over them and making Louis’ eyes hurt. He shivers, skin covered in goose-bumps and he assumes that’s probably why his weakling body’d decided to wake up.

 

He closes his eyes, burying his nose into Harry’s near-greasy hair as he reaches around blindly on Harry’s bedside table before his fingers come into contact with what feels a lot like Harry’s iPhone, which he then picks up and unlocks, checking the time.

 

Jesus Christ, it’s only twenty three past six. Louis groans and tries to ignore the disgusting sour taste in his mouth as he slowly rolls Harry from his chest and down onto the empty space beside him, Harry just giving a sleepy little sigh as reaction, before Louis reaches down to pull at where either he or Harry had managed to kick the duvet to the foot of the bed.

 

He pulls it back up to his neck before he pulls Harry back into him, wrapping his arms around him in a weak attempt to absorb his warmth through diffusion or whatever, before he noses at his temple and promptly falls back asleep.

 

When he wakes the second time, there are curtains blocking the intrusive sunlight and when he stretches out, he jostles Harry, getting a dry giggle in response.

 

‘Morning,’ Harry says, and Louis rolls onto his side to face him, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his smiling mouth.

 

‘Morning, baby,’ he replies, resting his arm over Harry’s side and blinking slowly to get the blur from the corners of his eyes as Harry snuggles into him. ‘Wha’ time is it?’

 

Harry noses at his collar before kissing at where his neck and shoulder meet. ‘Just after ten, last time I checked.’

 

‘I know I should get up,’ Louis sighs, and god, his teeth feel furry, but Harry swipes his tongue over his neck and it feels amazing, ‘but I really don’t want to.’

 

Harry draws back and levels his gaze, tilting his head to the side as his mouth twists up. ‘Then don’t,’ he drawls, reaching under the duvet to run his hand down Louis’ tummy, fingers curling around his cock.

 

They fuck with Harry on his front, face pressed into the pillow, Louis’ holding him down with one hand on his waist while he presses Harry’s wrist into the mattress, breathing against his neck, because as great and darling Harry is, neither of them quite fancy the idea of morning breath being puffed in each other’s face while they’re trying to make each other come.

 

 

 

 

‘So,’ Harry says, looking up from his laptop. Louis looks up from his book, over where Harry’s sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed. ‘Can I call you my boyfriend now?’

 

Louis’ cheeks pull tight as he grins.

 

‘Yeah,’ he says back, nodding. Harry grins at him before he looks back down and carries on.

 

 

 

 

 

The second time Louis properly encounters Zayn, it’s Friday evening when he’s out with Harry. It’s a small restaurant, ace curry and cheap wine and a stunning caramel cheesecake, and he’s in the process of asking Harry what he wants when Harry looks past him and waves excitedly.

 

Louis turns in his seat to see Zayn smiling as he closes the door behind him and starts towards them.

 

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Harry whispers, keeping the grin on his face as Zayn approaches, ‘but I just really wanted you two to finally meet.’

 

Louis’ about to tell him that they have in fact met, when Harry’s standing up and pulling Zayn into a hug, then pulling him down into the booth opposite Louis.

 

‘Louis, this is Zayn.’ Harry introduces, and Louis nods.

 

‘Nice to see you again,’ he says, and Zayn smiles back and him and Harry raises his eyebrows.

 

‘You’ve met?’ Harry asks, sounding adorably confused and Louis wants to reach across the table and stroke his thumb over the wrinkles between his eyebrows and kiss his forehead as Zayn laughs.

 

‘Yeah, Sleeping Beauty, ages ago. Quite frankly, I’m offended it’s taken you so long to introduce me to your boyfriend.’

 

Harry frowns and looks between the two of them and Louis moves down his bench to be more in front of Harry. ‘When you were sick, babes. But still, I can’t believe it took you so long to introduce me to your best friend.’

 

Zayn tickles Harry then, and Louis bites into his lower lip to suppress the grin that comes with watching Harry squirm down further into the booth, slapping at Zayn’s hands until he stops, giggling softly.

 

‘You’re both rude.’ Harry pouts with no fire behind it, and Zayn raises an eyebrow before shaking his head.

 

Zayn orders a beer and chicken curry and he spits on Harry’s argument as to why Captain America is better than Iron Man and Louis knows he’s going to get along well with him.

 

 

 

 

 

In all honesty, Louis had been more than somewhat worried that the novelty of dating Harry would wear off within in a month or two, and that maybe one day he’d wake up having gotten over the shocking _holy fuck, the boy I’ve been dreaming about for the past donkeys years is actually into me_ and realise that he and Harry have too little in common or too much in common and that he’d realise all that there was to their relationship was infatuation and great sex.

 

Luckily, it never seems to come, and as a month passes and Louis spends more time in Harry’s shitty little one room pressed up against the radiator or as the amount of times Harry comes over to make supper and then cuddle up on the couch to watch Masterchef before drawing Louis back to bed and sucking him off with the ease that can only come from deep throating plastic cocks every other day for two years straight increases, Louis only finds that he likes Harry more and more until Harry’s all he can think about.

 

When Louis tells Liam this after three glasses of wine on a night where Harry had the excuse of an essay, even though Louis knows it’s for a broadcast (which is a whole other thing really, because he thinks even if he had gone into this _thing_ with Harry, he would have probably figured out Harry’s little side-job anyway, because Harry isn’t particularly good at being sneaky, and he’s used the same essay as excuse every Wednesday for the past three weeks, so…) Liam suggests maybe it’s just because they’re fucking so much that Harry’s got him under some type of endorphins-hypnotism. He then suggests a four-lettered word Louis doesn’t want to think about yet so Louis sticks to the first option.

 

Because, like, Harry’s some sort of _nymph_. Not quite a nymphomaniac though, maybe just some sort of fairy-spirit-god whose main goal in life is to make Louis’ dick fall off. Because as much as Harry loves cuddling into his side and nuzzling into his neck and holding his hand and tracing shapes in his palm and up his forearm during lectures, he seems to love Louis’ cock even more, abundantly so if it’s inside of him.

 

It’s a good thing Louis’ somewhat fit, otherwise he thinks he’d probably die from the sweat he works up fucking Harry, and that it’s a good thing he’s strong because he doesn’t know how well hoisting Harry up and pressing him against the wall would work otherwise.

 

But as far as ‘relationships obstacles’ go, fucking Harry with something very much not-rubber until he’s in a daze of dick-drunk is something he can _very_ easily live with.

 

 

 

 

Louis taps his fingers idly against Harry’s thigh, trying to focus on what Harry’s saying and not just the way his mouth moves when he speaks, how his lips form each word or how his tongue pokes out to lick over his lower lip, the way he smiles slightly when Louis draws the shape of a heart above his knee.

 

Harry taps the end of his pen against his lower lip and looks up when he seems to realise that Louis isn’t listening to him, giving Louis his Angry Kitten Frown.

 

‘Focus,’ Harry tells him, shifting backwards so that he’s sitting up straighter, legs straightening over his lap. ‘I’m trying to help you.’

 

‘I can’t focus when you look like this,’ Louis says, dragging his fingers up Harry’s thighs and sneaking his hands under his jumper, tickling over his tummy so that Harry gives a surprised squawk before his body curls up. Louis’ textbook falls from Harry’s lap as he reaches to grip at Louis’ forearms to stop his tickles and Louis pulls Harry toward him, hand going to his thigh as he pulls Harry into his lap.

 

‘Rude.’ Harry says as Louis wraps his arms around him, holding him to his chest.

 

Louis just grins at him before leaning up and kissing him. Harry reaches up to cup his jaw, smiling as Louis kisses him gently. Louis slips his hands underneath the hem of Harry’s jersey, fingers spanning across the small of his back and holding him steady as he deepens their kiss.

 

It’s broken up when Niall comes in from the kitchen, popcorn bowl refilled, and he chucks a handful at the pair of them.

 

‘Not on the couch, you horny buggers.’

 

Harry tucks his face into Louis’ neck, giggling softly as Louis trails his fingers up and down his spine.

 

 ‘You know what Harry,’ he says softly, but loud enough for Niall to hear. ‘I think some people are genuinely starting to think we’re in a relationship.’

 

 

 

_Movie night?_ Louis sends Harry, tapping his phone against his desk as he waits for reply.

 

_can I bring Zayn? <3_ Harry sends back a minute later.

 

_please do :) should I order pizza ??_

 

Y _es please !!!_

 

_okay :) <3 come over 6ish ?_

 

_see you soon <3<3<3_

 

Louis smiles, considering sending him a few x’s in reply but he decides to leave it and locks his phone, staring at a blank word document that somehow needs to become his four thousand word essay on the impact of Shakespeare for another five minutes before he picks up his phone again to order pizza.

 

 

 

 

Harry and Zayn arrive just after six yielding two six-packs. Liam and Niall had bickered over what to watch for near ten minutes before the pizza had arrived and Louis had made Liam answer the door while Niall had put in the first season disk of Life on Mars.

 

Harry gobbles down pizza while tucked under Louis’ arm, feeding Louis occasional bites as well as stealing occasional sips of his beer.

 

Harry presses his forehead against Louis’ neck when he starts getting bored, mouthing at his collarbones to demand his attention. Louis obligingly lifts a hand to stroke through Harry’s hair, shifting to get Harry half-splayed over his lap as he pulls lightly on his hair.

 

Harry’s having none of it though, palms at Louis and breathes against his neck, restless and obviously horny. Louis sighs and relents before he links their fingers and stands up, Harry scrambling up with him.

 

‘It’s late, and Harry’s getting tired, so we’re heading to bed.’ He tells them with a false yawn, and none of them to seem to believe his thinly veiled lie. He thinks he needs to get Harry acting lessons. He can’t have him biting his lip and eyeing him when he’s meant to be sleepy. Zayn rolls his eyes before he turns back to the television.

 

‘Goodnight,’ Niall says with a knowing smile.

 

Louis flips them off before he pulls Harry to his bedroom and closes the door quietly behind himself. As soon as it’s closed, Harry backs him against the door and kisses him tenderly, mouth slack and lips parted, before he drops down to his knees.

 

Harry reaches up for his waistband, pulling on his drawstring almost cautiously as Louis cards his fingers through his hair and tries not to make any sound when Harry tugs down his jogging bottoms and his pants in one go, letting them pool around his ankles.

 

Louis strokes his thumb over his cheek before Harry curls his fingers around his cock, mouth parting before he sucks the head into his plush mouth. Louis tries to suppress the groan that comes paired with the feeling, conscious that they’re all right outside, at that Zayn is going to be sleeping on the couch right outside while Niall and Liam are on either side, so they need to do this before they decide to head to bed too.

 

Harry sucks him down slowly, merely blinking as he takes him deeper than Louis thinks he ever could. Louis can hear his throat work to open around him, to take him deeper until Harry’s lips are meeting his fingers and he blinks again, eyes wide and glazed.

 

Louis pulls on his hair almost experimentally, the small moan he receives in reply from Harry not completely unexpected.

 

Harry draws back slowly, eyes never leaving Louis’, and something about that makes this a lot more intense, Harry never looking away as he drags the flat of his tongue along the underside of his cock before he bobs his head and swallows him down far enough that Louis can hear his throat work, far enough that his eyes go shiny and brighter as they start to water.

 

Louis pulls on his hair again, Harry’s hand sliding to curl around his hip as he pulls off and drags his tongue along the length of him, mouth swollen and wet and cruelly pink in the dim-lit room. Louis jerks his hips forward slightly when Harry flicks his tongue over his slit, fingers tightening in his soft hair when he closes his mouth loosely around his first inch.

 

Harry draws back, the hand wrapped around his base moving to cup his balls instead as his other hand splays over his hip. He blinks, looks down at Louis’ spit-slick cock before back up at him, Bambi-eyes hooded by dark lashes.

 

‘You can, if you want,’ he murmurs, voice soft and croaky, and Louis’ cock blurts out more precome because _he_ did that. ‘You know,’ Harry trails off, eyes flicking back down before he reaches for Louis’ hand where it’s stroking behind his ear and shifts it to the back of his head before he opens his mouth. Louis frowns as Harry’s hand fits over his and presses before he gets it.

 

‘Fuck,’ he says, more to himself than anything, before he looks down at Harry, takes in the sight of him with his jaw slack and eyes bright as he presses on his hand again. ‘You sure?’

 

Harry nods as he shifts around on his knees, settling on them as his hand slips from its place shadowing Louis’, instead falling into his lap. Louis nods to himself before he swallows and twists his fingers into Harry’s hair, applying gentle pressure so that his head moves forward at the same time Louis presses his hips towards his mouth.

 

Louis goes slow, ready to see if Harry will press his nails against his hip to get him to stop or to see if he’ll pull back and splutter, but instead Harry just looks up at him trustingly as he lets Louis fuck his cock down his throat.

 

Harry just lets him, eyes wet and mouth red around him as Louis’ hips jerk faster until he’s almost holding Harry’s head still as he thrusts his hips forward. He’s a sight, hair a mess and eyelashes dark and Louis’ jaw goes slack at the sight of him before his tummy coils with heat.

 

‘Fuck, _baby_ ,’ he groans, before he’s yanking Harry off him and reaching down to wrap his fist around himself, working himself quickly as his eyes slip closed and he comes, body tensing as his cock spurts over Harry’s face.

 

When he blinks his eyes open, Harry’s looking up at him, come splattered over his cheek at and the bridge of his nose, mouth open with some white caught on his tongue. Louis pulls him up by his shoulders and curls his arm around his waist before he kisses him, his own come passing between their mouths before he forces it into Harry’s mouth with his tongue, drawing back to watch Harry swallow.

 

‘Shit,’ he giggles breathlessly, and Harry smiles slowly before Louis reaches up to drag his fingers through the come on his cheek before presenting his fingers to Harry, who sucks them into his mouth, tongues over them until they’re clean. Louis kisses him again and pulls him closer before he notices the press of his cock against his hip.

 

Harry curls forward to tuck himself under Louis’ chin, knees bent to slot against him as Louis slips a hand between them and cups Harry through his denim shorts, feeling a wet patch against the fabric.

 

He grinds his palm down against the spot, earning a soft whimper from Harry before he fits his hand along the hard line of him, squeezing his fingers along the length of him.

 

‘You gonna come, baby?’ he asks gently, Harry nodding against his shoulder as he digs the heel of his palm against him again, earning a little moan before Harry tenses and trembles and Louis feels warmth spread. He strokes over the spot slowly as Harry pants into his shoulder before he kisses the top of his head. ‘There you go, sweetie.’

 

Harry mumbles something into his jumper that Louis doesn’t quite catch, but Louis doesn’t worry about it as he guides Harry over to bed, helping him get out his shorts and wipe down his softening cock before getting him under the covers.

 

Harry’s last words before he falls asleep are complaints about carpet burn on his knees.

 

 

 

 

 

'We need more bread!' Louis shouts to no-one in particular in the hopes that someone will do something about it so he can make himself toast.

 

When he gets no reply, he pokes his head out the kitchen frowning as Zayn and Liam don't pause their game and as Harry simply stretches his neck to the side, idly twirling a strand of hair around his finger.

 

He tries clearing his throat and only Harry looks up, tearing his eyes away from the screen to smile at him lazily.

 

'We need more bread.' He repeats. Harry raises his eyebrows.

 

'Want me to come with?' he asks, and Louis didn’t really want to have go buy his own bread in the first place, but if Harry's coming makes it better.

 

'Please,' he says as he checks his pocket for his keys. Harry stands up and stretches, body pulling taut and feline before he comes to stand next to Louis, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder.

 

Louis absently links their fingers as he leads him to the door. They need more lube anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

Louis kisses Harry again, hands on his hips holding him place against the wall as Harry giggles into his mouth, arms thrown over his shoulders as Louis ducks his head and kisses down his neck, rubbing his thumb over the jut of his hipbone.

 

He rubs his nose against the skin bared by the dip of his collar and Harry makes a sweet sound that Louis warrants with a giggly 'Shhhh,'

 

They should probably get back to the others before Zayn comes across them making out in his passage, but Harry's lips are painted such a lovely burgundy from his wine and Louis can't keep his hands off him, wants to touch him all over as he kisses his soft skin and Harry squeals softly, fingers crawling into his hair before he tugs him back up and Louis' looking into his sparkly eyes before Harry's kissing him.

 

Louis starts it really, fingers tugging on his hair, before he opens his mouth and tells him, ‘My favourite thing about you is your curls.’

 

Harry giggles, reaching up and rubbing his thumb under Louis’ eye where he knows he’s got huge bags. He thinks he needs to get that anti-bag stuff his mum uses if Harry’s going to carry on keeping him up for sex. ‘My favourite thing about you is your eyelashes.’

 

Louis grins impishly. ‘I love your smell.’

 

He isn't prepared for it when Harry breathes, 'I love you,' and Louis stills before he draws back.

 

Harry looks like he wasn't expecting it either, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted before Louis blinks and pulls him back in, kissing him again.

 

‘You two better not be fucking in my passage!’ Zayn shouts from the living room.

 

 

 

 

 

Harry comes over after class and it’s cold and Louis feels hungover from Corona and spliffs over Masterchef with Niall last night. Harry tucks him into bed and makes him a late lunch of soup and cheese toast as Louis opens his laptop and signs into Netflix.

 

Harry climbs in next to him and Louis tucks him under his arm, stroking down his side absently, his arm rests over his waist and Louis’ struck by the image of Harry lying on his bed, on his side in that pink tutu as he’d fucked himself with a glittery vibrator. He shivers and Harry looks up at him with a darling pout as he wraps him tighter in the duvet and nudges his soup towards him.

 

They stay like that for hours, Louis pulling Harry in between his legs and wrapping his arms around his waist, palms resting over his tummy, as Harry zones in and out of sleep and shifts around in his hold.

 

'It's late,' Harry grumbles into his neck, tightening his arm around his waist and nosing at his collarbone. Louis pulls gently on his hair, and Harry makes a soft little purr sound.

 

'It is.' Louis replies, shifting his laptop off his lap and setting it down beside him on the mattress so that Harry can hook his thigh over his hips, eyelashes fluttering against the column of his throat. 'You want to go home?'

 

Harry presses a gentle kiss to the crook of his neck as he traces his fingertip along Louis' bicep. He shifts away to look up at Louis, blinking his doe-eyes slowly as he bites into his raspberry-coloured lower-lip. His hair is getting long, tucked behind his ear. Louis wants to pull on it, brush his fingers through and pin it back for him. Harry shakes his head slowly.

 

Harry kisses at his collar again, slow, shifting more of his weight on top of him so he can press fleeting, light kisses along his neckline before Louis shifts him over so that he's in his lap, thighs splayed on either side of him.

 

Louis pulls down his pants slowly before he reaches over and digs in his bedside-table for the familiar plastic tube before he snicks it open and gets his fingers wet.

 

He fingers Harry open slowly, Harry panting softly in his neck as he wipes his forehead just below his ear.

 

Louis pulls his jumper off him, balling it up and chucking it to the foot of the bed as he slips in a third finger. Harry grazes his teeth against his neck before biting softly.

 

Louis slicks himself up before he holds Harry still and presses against him. He nudges his hips up, Harry's hand seeking out his own as he leans his weight backwards so that Louis slips inside of him.

 

He fucks him slowly, Harry plastered to his chest as Louis fucks up into him, hands rubbing along his sides before he scratches down his back before planting his hands on Harry's arse, spreading him slightly as he presses up into him and Harry mewls into his neck to muffle the sound.

 

Louis helps him sit up, squeezing Harry's fingers with one hand as the other goes to rest on his hip as Harry gets comfortable, rocking his hips backwards and forwards. Louis squeezes his palm as Harry lifts himself slowly, biting into his lower lip to stay quiet, the mix of moonlight and lamplight from outside leaking in from the windows and making Harry almost glow as he shifts and fucks himself down onto Louis slowly, body almost glittering with sweat.

 

His cock is hard and full against his tummy, bobbing with every thrust up of Louis' hips and Louis knows Harry's trying not to touch himself, squeezing Louis' hand as he presses his palm flat to his chest to balance himself and Louis digs his fingers into his hips to guide him steadily before he trails his hand back up, spanning up over Harry's tight tummy before going up, his fingers brushing over his nipple and Harry gasps in between moans as Louis pinches at the nub, twisting slowly so that Harry's cock blots precome from the tip and Harry mewls.

 

Harry comes when Louis drags his hand back down, jerking him twice before reaching back up to dig his thumbnail into the peak of his nipple, Harry squeezing his hand tight as his body tightens around Louis and he shudders, and mumbles something again, the same thing as last time except this time Louis hears him more clearly and he comes hard, holding Harry’s hips still as he bucks up into him, Harry's soft moan, unmistakeable, of _Daddy_ , ringing through his ears.

 

 

 

 

Louis wakes up to a stale taste in his mouth.

 

He drags himself out of Harry’s octopus-grip to stumble into the shower, scrubbing the dried sweat from his skin before he lathers his hair and leans forward so the spray hits him between his shoulder blades.

 

He pulls one off slowly, replaying Harry’s rough voice whining Daddy over and over, looking up at him as he swallows down his cock, until he’s reaching out to steady himself as he shudders through his orgasm. He watches his come spiral down the drain before he turns off the water and dries himself off.

 

Harry’s in the kitchen, kettle boiling and bread in the toaster and Louis has to walk up behind him, press his nose to the nape of his neck.

 

‘I love you,’ he tells him. Harry says it right back.

 

 

 

 

 

The day that Louis hands in his essay on Aristotle, he messages Liam, Niall, Harry, and new-contact Zayn _tonite we're goin out !!_

 

They go to one of the clubs just off-campus, meeting up with Harry and Zayn inside just after eight.

 

Harry looks gorgeous, which doesn't say much because Harry always looks gorgeous, but he looks absolutely jaw-dropping and mouth-dryingly good as he leans against the bar and laughs at whatever Zayn's saying to him, bright drink in his hand and hips cocked forward so that Louis can eye at the jut of his hipbones where his long-sleeve shows off a tantalising strip of white skin above his waistband. Louis wants to hold him down and take his cock into his mouth, pinch at his nipples as he sucks tight over Harry's cock head so he can make Harry make _that_ sound of his, the little high moan that he makes when he really wants to come.

 

Harry smiles bright when he sees them, raising his hand to wave them over and Zayn looks their way.

 

Louis orders himself a vodka Redbulll because he'd feeling daring before he loops his arm around Harry's waist and kisses his neck as hello, wanting everyone to know that the gorgeous boy is his alone.

 

Harry giggles softly as Louis kisses up his neck before murmuring into his ear, 'Hello baby,'

 

After Harry turns in his hold to give him a soft kiss, Louis turns to face Zayn, giving him a slight nod in greeting and Zayn grins back, raising his drink.

 

After Niall gets them a booth, Harry’s Lips brush against his ear. ‘Where do you wanna sit?’

 

Louis doesn’t miss a beat. ‘Next to you.’

 

He squeezes in, and Harry slips in straight after, Louis resting his arm along the back so that it’s hovering around Harry. It’s loud, Louis having to shout to talk to Liam across from him before Niall brings back a tray of shots, setting it down in the centre of the table.

 

Louis throws his back, wincing as it burns his throat the way down. He swallows down his second before he lets his arm fall down to rest around Harry’s shoulders properly.

 

Harry squeezes out to get them their next round and watches him absently as he talks to Niall. When Harry comes back, Louis pulls him down into his lap, arm looped around his waist so that he can nudge his fingers underneath his hem and stroke at the bare skin of his hip.

 

Harry presses his lips against his ear so that Louis can hear him, shifting in his lap. ‘Dance with me?’

 

Louis nods, lets Harry slide out the booth before him and follows willingly. Harry leads him with his fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling him into the mass before he stops and gives Louis' wrist a short tug, stepping back against him and covering Louis' hands with his own so he can guide them down his front.

 

Louis rests his hands on his hips, pressing his hips against the swell of his arse.

 

Harry's a good inch or two taller than him. Maybe three. Or four. But he moulds against Louis' front, grinding back into Louis as Louis grips tight to his hips and rubs up against his arse, sliding his hand down to his front and gripping at the hard line of his cock through his jeans. Harry gasps wet with his mouth open as Louis bites at his neck, sucking softly as he rubs his palm against Harry's denim-covered cock.

 

‘You gonna call me Daddy?’ Louis breathes out against his ear, and Harry arches back into him, Louis spanning his fingers across his upper thighs and guiding his hips back to grind against him.

 

Harry moans, soft enough that Louis can’t even hear it over the thud of the music, but he can feel Harry’s body vibrate with it as he cranes his neck to try and face Louis before Louis lifts a hand to take hold of his jaw and hold him steady, his fingers pressing tight beside his mouth as he draws him in to kiss him.

 

He pries Harry’s mouth open with his tongue, licking his mouth open as Harry rubs his arse back against the line his cock.

 

Louis spins him around then, wants to kiss him properly, and Harry’s hands instantly go to his chest, fingers clamping down on the fabric of his top as he surges to reconnect their lips.

 

Louis holds him by his waist and hip, hand slipping from his hip down to squeeze at the small round of his arse. Harry draws back to rub his sweaty forehead against his neck, shoulders hunched and hips jutting forward so that the bulge of his cock presses against Louis’.

 

Louis drowns out the noise around them and focuses instead on his own breathing, of Harry panting against his skin before he bites his neck.

 

‘Daddy,’ Harry groans against the skin, and Louis slips his fingers into his back pocket, rocking his hips forward while simultaneously pressing Harry’s hips forward with the hand gripping his bum. ‘Daddy,’ he whines again.

 

‘Shh, baby,’ Louis breathes against his hair, even though Harry probably can’t hear it. ‘Want me to take you home?’ he asks then, louder.

 

Harry nods, cheeks hot and flushed when he draws back, eyes wide and mostly pupil. His mouth is red and he looks dazed. Louis kisses him again before he practically drags him out.

 

He flags down a taxi, opening the door and herding Harry in before passing Harry his phone.

 

‘Send Liam a message saying you weren’t feeling well.’ He commands before leaning forward and reciting his address.

 

Harry whines and leans back against the seat, unlocking Louis’ phone. Louis sends him a stern look that makes Harry nod before typing out a message and sending it to Liam’s contact.

 

Louis takes him home, gets him naked before his bedroom door is even closed. He bends Harry over the foot of the bed, fucking him steadily with three fingers before he squeezes in a fourth and Harry comes with a squeal of “Daddy!” before Louis hoists him up onto the bed.

 

He kneels back before he pulls Harry forward, pressing his legs open and spreading them over his upper thighs before he presses inside of him.

 

Harry claws at the duvet before he reaches for Louis, gripping tight to his wrist as Louis wraps his fingers around his prick, fat and wet against his tummy, and he strokes tight over his pink head until Harry trembles and comes again, voice high and head thrown back as he chants _Daddy_ over and over until Louis comes, hips pressed tight to his arse until Harry stops shuddering.

 

He forces Harry to stand, despite his pout, and encourages him to drink a glass of water until his cheeks return to a colour more normal than fire-hydrant red.

 

He sits him down on the toilet lid as he wets a flannel to wipe his tummy down with. He wonders if maybe he’s broken him somehow, eyeing his glazed, hooded eyes and the fact that he can’t seem to properly close his mouth or string a sentence together.

 

Once he’s cleaned him off and brushed through his hair with his fingers, pressed soft kisses over his cheeks, he holds his hand as he guides him back to his bedroom before slipping him into bed and climbing in after him.

 

As he runs his thumb along the cupid’s bow of Harry’s parted lips, he thinks maybe he’ll do some Googling in the morning, just to double check that you can’t break someone from fucking them to hard.

 

 

 

 

'So this Daddy thing,' Louis starts, propping himself up on his elbow and looking down at Harry before Harry pulls the duvet up to cover his face and releases an adorable whine. ‘Hey, none of that,’ Louis coos, reaching forward to pull at the duvet until Harry lets his grip go lax and lets Louis pull the duvet away from his face. Louis smiles down at him while Harry bites his lip to suppress his smile of reply.

 

‘But it’s weird,’ Harry whines before he rolls away to press his face into the pillow.

 

Louis rolls his eyes but reaches out to trace a finger down the line of Harry’s back, to where the duvet covers his waist, before back up, over the line of his spine.

 

‘S’not weird. If you like it, that’s fine. I like it too.’

 

Harry sighs before he rolls over to face him again, snuggling closer to him and shifting down so that he’s looking up to meet Louis’ eyes, gazing at him from under his eyelashes as he releases his ruby lower lip from his teeth.

 

‘You do?’ he asks, voice shy and bashful.

 

Louis nods and pulls him in against his chest, savouring the hard press of their bodies together.

 

‘You’re my little darling,’ he tells him, pressing his lips to his forehead as he rests his hand on his waist, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles. ‘I’d love to be your Daddy.’

 

Harry lets out a soft breath before he nods, breaking out into an infectious grin. ‘Thank you Daddy,’ he sighs, leaning up to connect their lips lightly.

 

‘But I think I need to look into your sex-trance thing a bit, I don’t like feeling like I’ve broken you.’

 

‘Okay,’ Harry replies, content as he nuzzles his cheek against Louis’. ‘I love you,’ he says slowly, and Louis feels like there’s fire in his tummy.

 

‘I love you too,’

 

Harry tangles their legs together, sighing happily as he lets his arm rest around Louis’ middle. Louis feels content.

 

Until Harry rubs his nose against his cheek and drags his lips across to his ear. ‘Can I suck your cock, please, Daddy?’

 

 

 

 

 

Louis’ in the process of waking up when his phone rings.

 

He groans, reaching over and answering before checking caller ID.

 

‘Hello?’ he croaks, rubbing his eye with his knuckle.

 

‘Hi Lou,’ comes Harry’s voice.

 

‘Hi baby,’ Louis breathes into the receiver, falling back down against the mattress and smiling as he closes his eyes. ‘What’s up?’

 

‘Do you maybe want to come over for breakfast?’ He doesn’t sound sleepy and grizzly like he normally does in the morning, rather his voice sounding slightly small and tinny.

 

Louis sits up, concern curling around his belly on instinct. ‘Yeah, sure, ‘course. Any reason why, little love?’

 

‘I woke up hungry and alone and I feel like hugging you and eating flapjacks.’

 

‘Yeah, okay.’

 

Louis gets dressed fast, tucking his hair behind his ear before slipping on his shoes and pulling on his jacket.

 

He knows Harry was talking rubbish and that he probably just wants to snuggle with Louis, the main giveaway, of course, being that Harry doesn’t have a kitchen and he doubts he’s asking Louis over to cook in the communal excuse for a cooking area.

 

He stops in the Sainsbury’s just round the corner from Harry’s res to buy a tray of croissants and some rather ill-looking flapjacks, before deciding that golden syrup will be the best thing to eat them with and paying, popping in a roll of Sweethearts last minute.

 

Harry comes down to open the door for him, and he’s smiling, but otherwise he doesn’t look great.

 

He crawls back into bed as soon as the door’s closed, and Louis kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket straight away, taking his plastic bag with him as he peels back Harry’s duvet and multiple blankets and slipping in next to him, squeezed up shoulder-to-shoulder.

 

Harry leans back against the wall and stays quiet so Louis takes the duty upon himself to open the croissants and break of one of the corners, holding the flaky pastry to Harry’s mouth. Another sign that something’s wrong is that he doesn’t scold Louis about the fact that he’s messing crumbs on the bed and just closes his lips around Louis’ fingertips obediently.

 

Louis’ almost feeds him the entire thing, as well as squeezed dollops of syrup onto his fingers before pressing them into his mouth, yet he only gets weak giggles from Harry in return.

 

‘What’s wrong?’ he caves, wiping his fingers off on his shirt before he props himself up on his forearm.

 

It’s like the question breaks the floodgates and then Harry’s crying, lip wobbling and tears streaking down his cheeks. Louis blinks, surprised, before he pulls Harry into his chest and strokes down his back.

 

Harry cries into his chest, holding on tight to him as his tears wet through Louis’ shirt and his nose runs. Louis just coos and strokes his back, holding him tight until his sobs turn to hiccups and he’s just shaking in his arms from it, clinging tight to him as Louis presses soft kisses to the top of his head and strokes down his back.

 

‘What’s wrong baby?’ he tries again, crooking two fingers under his chin and forcing his chin up so that Harry meets his eyes.

 

Harry just shakes his head and buries his face in his neck, wet cheeks hot against him.

 

‘I can’t tell you.’ He whimpers as he wraps his arms around him. Louis lets him grip him as he hiccups, stroking down his back in a way he hopes is somewhat soothing.

 

‘Please tell me, sweetie. I want to know what’s making my baby so sad.’ he tries, reaching up to card his fingers through Harry’s hair. ‘I love you.’

 

Harry’s shoulder shudder and he tips his chin down, pressing his nose against Louis’ chest. ‘But you won’t if I tell you,’ he whimpers, and Louis pulls slightly on his hair.

 

‘Don’t be silly darling, I love you no matter what.’

 

Harry nods before he takes a shuddery breath and pushes himself to sit up.

 

‘I um,’ he starts, taking a deep breath, ‘I’m a-’ he cuts off and his shoulders lift when he breathes in, chest puffing up, ‘I’m a camboy. And my brother found out.’

 

Louis stays silent, has no idea what he’s meant to say, how he’s meant to tell Harry. Harry must take his silence as shock.

 

‘And he said he’s going to tell my parents if I don’t stop.’

 

Louis’ mind starts shouting at him, because he knows he’s fucked because he should have told Harry because now Harry feels like shit and Louis knows he’s going to be hurt when Louis tells him.

 

Harry panics at his silence, rushes to protect himself. ‘Please don’t break up with me. I’m sorry, it’s just- I need the money and this was all I could do to pay for my room and my books because I couldn’t tell my parents and-’

 

‘I knew.’ Louis blurts, and Harry stills, voice dying in his throat.

 

He’s quiet a long time, and Louis can feel his heart beat in his throat. He’s thinks he’s going to throw up. Or die. Maybe both. Probably not.

 

‘You knew?’ Harry asks, voice small and disbelieving.

 

Louis winces. ‘Yeah,’ he says back, and Harry flinches like Louis’ put a bullet in his chest. Louis thought his world was ending when he found out the Spice Girls were breaking up, but he was spectacularly wrong and he thinks his world ending feels a lot more like the way Harry’s looking at him.

 

‘I-‘ Harry starts, and Louis knows he’s completely fucked up, watching Harry’s eyes skit over his face.

 

Harry edges away from him. It’s subtle, but he shifts the slightest inch of space from Louis on the bed before running his hand through his hair and making a soft sound of confusion that normally Louis would follow with a kiss, but now he can’t see that ending without being pushed away, worst-case-scenario with a red hand-print on his cheek.

 

But he still thinks he’d prefer Harry slapping him or pushing away to the soft way he asks, ‘The whole time?’

 

Louis’ shoulders sag forward, and he wishes it were three months ago, when Harry had first spoken to him, he’d just told him he knew who he was, and then that’d he’d just asked him out. But now he’s gone and fucked up, and he feels like Harry’s slipping through his fingers.

 

‘Yeah,’ he answers, and Harry takes a deep breath and Louis waits for him to let it out.

 

When he does, on the outbreath, he says, ‘I think you should go, Louis.’

 

Louis looks at him, wants to see a smile on his lips that tells him Harry isn’t serious, but Harry’s looking away from him, draws his knees up to his chest and he still has carpet burn on the one. Louis nods, has no idea what to say to him, what to tell him to make it better.

 

He contemplates hugging Harry before he leaves, but he settles on running his hand down from his shoulder, lingering in the centre of his back, before he stands and leaves.

 

 

 

 

 

Louis is decidedly not moping.

 

‘You’re moping,’ Niall tells him, sitting down at the foot of his bed and crossing his legs under him in a way that tells Louis he’s going to be here for a while.

 

‘Am not,’ Louis bites back, scrolling through his phone in what looks like an indifferent manner when he’s actually just scrolling through his folder of stupid photos from Harry.

 

‘You have been in bed for three days.’ Niall raises, lifting his eyebrow in challenge.

 

Louis frowns and looks back at his phone, both avoiding Niall’s judgemental ( _I’m not being judgemental Louis, I’m just concerned_ ) look and further examining one of Harry’s morning selfies, soft and rumpled in between the folds of his duvet. ‘Hey, I had supper with you guys last night.’

 

He doesn’t have to be watching him to know that Niall’s giving him is Sour Look that he gets when Louis’ being a shit, mouth tight and eyes lidded. ‘You stumbled out this room in a dressing gown, ate probably near two kilograms of Thai noodles and cried straight through Tarzan.’

 

Louis shoots him a scowl before he carries on scrolling through his pictures, pausing on one of Harry with pink cheeks and scrunchy eyes.

 

‘You tell me about how good you feel when your boyfriend hates and you and practically breaks up with you,’

 

Niall sighs and then, faster than Louis can blink, he’s wriggling in under the covers next to him, plucking Louis’ phone from his hands and setting it down on his bedside table before he’s hugging Louis, snuggling up into him like a puppy, before he strokes Louis’ undoubtedly ghastly hair.

 

‘Listen, that boy loves you, and even though you were a complete and utter idiot and did betray his trust more than a little, he’s not going to just dump you.’ He soothes, and Louis takes a deep breath and lets himself be coddled, breathing in the smell of generic soap from Niall’s neck. Generic soap and something that also smells like batter.

 

‘What if I’ve lost him?’ Louis asks, refusing to acknowledge the slight wobble in his voice.

 

‘Don’t be silly, Lou.’

 

Louis twists his fingers into Niall’s (it’s actually Liam’s, probably) t-shirt and closes his eyes as he tries to ignore what feels like a breezeblock sitting on his chest. ‘He won’t answer any of my calls.’

 

Niall sighs and scratches at the back of his scalp like Louis always does for him. ‘He’s probably just upset. Just give him time and let him come to you,’

 

Louis knows he’s being whiny, but he just clenches his fist in Niall’s top and presses his nose into the fabric. ‘But what if he doesn’t come to Niall?’ he asks, voice small.

 

Niall strokes down his back then, and Louis sags in his hold. ‘Look Louis, everyone fucks up in relationships. Some people kiss other people when they’re drunk, and some people don’t tell their boyfriends that they were obsessed with watching them play with themselves for two years, and if you and Harry love each other as much as you say you do, he’s not going to let your little fuck up stop that. Besides, he never told you either, so he’s at as much fault as you are here.’

 

Louis sighs, too little fight left in him to argue. ‘I’ll talk to Zayn, see what his advice is.’

 

Niall’s hand stills momentarily before he carries on stroking between his shoulder blades. ‘Might wanna give him a little warning before meeting up though, he sounded ready to grind your balls up when we were on the phone earlier’

 

Louis nods, fully expecting Zayn’s over-protectiveness towards Harry, before he falls into a light sleep, splayed over Niall.

 

 

 

 

 

He calls Zayn over two days later when there’s still no word from Harry.

 

Zayn’s prompt, and Niall and Liam are out per Louis’ request. Louis makes them tea and contemplates setting out biscuits, before he thinks about how ridiculous he’s being because Zayn is his _friend_. He might be Harry’s friend first, but he is also Louis’ friend. He’s slept on his couch, he’s seen him naked, so he thinks he can handle a little bit of growl and scratch before begging for help.

 

‘Listen,’ Zayn says when Louis comes back from the kitchen, and Louis sets down his mug without too much shake in his hands, ‘you need to pick your balls up off the floor and fix things because Harry’s miserable and he sure as hell isn’t feeling secure enough at the moment to come to you.’

 

Louis frowns. ‘Why do I have to fix things? He didn’t tell me, either.’

 

Zayn sighs and leans back in the couch, looking far too comfortable for the unfriendly air they have going. ‘Look, Harry’s really cut up about this and he’s worried about his family and what he’s going to do and I’ve offered to let him move in with me but he doesn’t want that, and in anyway, he does actually enjoy what he does, and I just think he’s in a bit of a shock from finding out both you his brother and you know within a few hours of each other.

 

‘So just cut him a bit of slack. I know he didn’t tell you, but he was terrified of losing you, and you have to understand that right now he needs you to hold his hand and show him you weren’t just using him to fuck a camboy and tell all your friends.’

 

Zayn sags properly before reaching for his mug, like he’s been planning that for long and he actually feels lighter with it off his shoulders. Louis envies him.

 

‘What do you want me to do? Pitch up at his door with roses and chocolates and say I’m sorry?’

 

‘Have you tried?’

 

‘I went over and had to wait outside for fifteen minutes before someone else from his building showed up and I could get in behind them, only for him to ignore my knocking. I sat outside his door for near three hours.’

 

Zayn gives him a sympathetic smile and Louis takes a sip of his tea to calm himself, to make himself relax because despite his fight, he wants nothing more than to have Harry back against his side, curled up next to him.

 

‘How about, I tell him I’m coming over and you go instead. Sound good?’

 

 

 

 

 

Harry answers on the second knock, and Louis’ heart thumps at the sight of him.

 

Harry opens his mouth, only to close it a second later before he steps out the way, a clear indication for Louis to come inside.

 

‘I’m sorry.’ Louis says, sitting down at the foot of the bed. Harry shakes his head and sits down next to him.

 

‘No, shit, I’m sorry, Lou.’

 

Louis bites into his lower lip as he eyes where Harry’s hands sit in his lap, before he reaches over for his hand into pulls it to rest on his thigh, pressing their hands together and linking their fingers.

 

They talk, long enough that Louis’ throat starts to feel sore and he’s tired of his own voice. They talk long enough to migrate to the top of Harry’s bed, lying side by side and facing each other, hands linked on the mattress between them as Harry talks about what he does, how he gets good money from it as well as the extra from his ‘lovely viewers’. Louis tells him he was one of said ‘lovely viewers’.

 

It gets dark early and Harry doesn’t bother switching on his bedside lamp, opting instead to snuggle in closer to Louis as topic shifts to mumbled words Louis knows he should remember but probably won’t and when his eyelids start to feel heavy, he doesn’t fight it, instead just shifts his knee in between Harry and squeezes his hands, pressing up close against to him on the shared pillow.

 

He falls asleep on Harry’s bed with his shoes on, and Harry traces over his features with his index finger while he sleeps for longer than he should before he pulls his mum’s throw from the foot of his bed over them, resting his head on Louis’ chest before he presses his lips to where he feels his heartbeat.

 

‘I love you,’ he breathes against the fabric. ‘Daddy,’ he adds, as an afterthought.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry sets the camera up just to the side of them, having Louis lie down in the middle of the bed for what is starting to feel like ages as he scrolls through his phone and wanks himself lazily. Louis had opted to rather scroll down his newsfeed as Harry fiddles with balances and buttons and had fluffs up pillows and shifts the duvet before opening the curtains a bit wider.

 

When Louis locks his phone and sets it down beside himself, letting out an impatient huff, Harry looks up at him, the impish grin on his face a great contrast to how his cock’s full between his thighs from how he was just practically humping Louis before he’d pulled away to set up, much to Louis’ frustration.

 

‘Sorry, it’s just I’ve never set up in our room. And I’ve never filmed here,’ he offers, giving a weak shrug as apology. Louis just rolls onto his side to watch him as Harry goes to pull the curtains open wider.

 

‘Sorry that our bedroom isn’t to your liking, Styles,’ he torts. He thought it was bad enough that Harry made him change the bedding before they started, supplying him with nice the white sheets he’d brought along when he moved in as he eyed Louis’ grey, less-than-crisp, rumpled bedding.

 

‘Should have just asked Zayn to come and film,’ Harry mutters to himself even though Louis knows he’s trying to prod at him, ‘You get so moody if there isn’t someone touching your cock.’

 

Louis grins at him, getting up to move closer to him. Harry stops what he’s doing but Louis gestures for him to carry on as he bends slightly to fiddle with the legs of the tripod. Louis comes up behind him to wrap his arms around his middle when he stands straight again, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade.

 

‘You know,’ he says against his skin, before he leans to hook his chin over his shoulder, ‘Most people just pick up a camera, rest it on a book, and fuck.’

 

Harry huffs indignantly. ‘I’m sorry I like to step above the quality of free amateur porn.’

 

Louis presses his smile into Harry’s shoulder, knows Harry’s smiling back. ‘Zayn understands.’ He mutters to himself.

 

Louis shifts his hips away and reaches down to grip at his cock, angling it so that when he presses his hips forward again, his cock is pressed right up against his arse.

 

‘Yeah?’ he asks softly, shifting his hips so that his cock nestles in the cleft of his arse.

 

‘Yeah.’ Harry answers, before he’s twisting to face Louis and Louis can press their mouths together, kissing him as he rocks his hips slowly.

 

Harry draws back, cheeks flushing pink. ‘Let’s save it for camera.’

 

Louis finds himself laughing, pressing his face against Harry’s back because only his boy would ruin the moment with a tacky line like that.

 

He still gives Harry a kiss of agreement, lying back on the mattress before Harry presses record and comes around to straddle him on the mattress, thighs bracketing his hips before he leans down to kiss him.

 

Louis kisses back, trailing his hand down Harry’s warm flank, but he still feels the buzz of nerves, the buzz of _what if this turns out shit and Harry laughs at me?_

 

‘Just try and relax,’ Harry says soft enough that the camera probably won’t pick it up against his ear, pulling Louis back in and kissing him slowly, fingers curling around strands of his hair and pulling lightly. Louis nods, and kisses him again, trying to ignore the low energy of self-doubt still sitting in the pit of his belly.

 

Harry’d told him beforehand that they’d probably have to make their kisses a bit over-exaggerated for the camera, but that everything else should be fine. Louis still has to suppress the desire to giggle when Harry slips their tongues together, wet and slick and a more strange than hot.

 

But Harry shifts his hips to make up for it, their cocks rubbing together between them as Harry cups his face and whimpers into his mouth.

 

Louis trails his fingers down his back, and Harry gives him a small nod that tells Louis he can start touching. Louis traces his hands lower, going down to where Harry’s arse is spread from his position, pressing two fingers against his rim.

 

Harry’s already wet and open from earlier where Louis had prepped him slowly on the couch, what started as him idly fingering Harry while they watched a recorded Dinner Date to him ignoring the television and pushing Harry back against the arm of the couch as he’d gotten on his tummy, one of Harry’s legs pulled over his shoulder and the other thrown over the back of the couch as Louis had held him open with his thumbs and fucked him wet and fast on his tongue as Harry called him Daddy and came almost violently with tears in his eyes and a somewhat fucked-away ability of speech.

 

Harry still moans when Louis presses his fingers inside him, moaning louder when Louis presses in a third straight away.

 

Louis fucks his fingers into Harry hard with enough force to make his wrist feels like it’s gonna cramp up, because as much as he and Harry love slow fucks where saying I love you is almost inevitable and leaves them both feeling like half-melted Caramello Bears with their insides dripping out (Harry’s words) Louis knows that Harry wants to be properly fucked until he’s proper melted into the bed and shivering when Louis’ done with him, eyes wide and mouth parted wide enough with his heaving breaths that Louis could just feed his cock back into his mouth and get him to come again.

 

Harry pulls away as Louis zones in on his prostate, rubbing over it cruelly as Harry presses his face into his neck and calls him Daddy.

 

Harry climbs off him with the grace of Bambi in roller-skates and gets down on his knees lightly to roll a condom onto Louis’ cock. They’re both giggling slightly, smiling brightly to each other even though they’re about to fuck on camera for near two-thousand people and Louis feels a spike of arousal at that, because in the end he’s the one fucking Harry into a sex-haze, he’s Harry’s Daddy and he’s the one who gets to pull Harry over his knee and spank him before fucking his throat and watching Harry swallow his come, but.

 

He also feels kind of uneasy, because in the end, Harry’s near-two-thousand paying subscribers, are getting to see how much Harry trusts him, how much he lets Louis have and how he lets Louis take him apart because he loves him enough to know that even after Louis’ held him down by sitting on his face as he tweaks cruelly hard on one nipple, pressing his fingernail in, while he slaps Harry’s dribbling cock with a ruler until Harry’s sobbing and coming all over himself, body curling in, Louis’ going to cuddle around him and bring him up, breathing praise against his ear and feeding him Zoo Biscuits before pulling him into the shower and kissing him under the spray as he washes his hair. Even though his cock twitches against his tummy because more people than he could ever imagine are going to see how hard he can make his baby come, they’re also going to see the more delicate parts, like them giggling as Harry kisses the tip of his condom-clad cock before he lubes him up.

 

Harry clambers back into his lap, seating himself over his tummy and grinning down at him, Louis’ cock pressing against his back. Harry gives him a last questioning smile, as if asking if Louis really wants to do this. Louis doesn’t think he could back out if he wanted.

 

Harry leans forward and reaches behind himself to angle Louis’ cock before he’s leaning back so that his cock’s pressing against his hole.

 

Louis knows he’s big. He maybe not have a cock as long or pretty as Harry’s, but he knows he has a sizable length and very-much-above-average girth and Harry never ceases to moan when Louis presses inside him, whimpering as Louis splits him open. He’s kind of amazed by how much Harry loves it.

 

Harry stills when Louis’ almost completely inside him, pausing to take slow breaths that make his chest puff out and Louis eyes the hard peaks of his nipples, contemplates pulling Harry down and holding onto his hips as he fucks into him and nibbles on his chest.

 

Harry sighs when he finally gets all of Louis inside of him, his bum cradled in the dip between the jut of Louis’ hipbones. He runs his hands down Louis’ chest and rolls his neck, leaning his head back so that Louis gets a brilliant view of the column of his throat. He thinks if he were as mad on photography as Zayn or Harry he’d take a picture.

 

Harry’s thumbs brush over his nipples before they run back down over his tummy and up his own thighs. He’s a sight. God, he’s a glorious sight. Louis watches as he runs his hands up his own tummy, touching himself lightly as he starts to rock his hips, drawing off Louis’ cock enough so that with each gentle shift of Harry’s hips has him nudging at his spot. He makes a soft, hopelessly pretty sound as he reaches up to tweak at his nipples, cock dripping a drop of precome as he whines again.

 

He rolls his head forward again to lock eyes with Louis, mouth parted and pupils blown but eyes lidded. ‘Fuck me, Daddy.’ He simpers.

 

Louis reaches for his hips, positively biting his fingers into the dough lining the area as he holds him still and fucks up. Harry gives a stuttered moan, pinching at his nipples and rolling them between thumb and forefinger as Louis fucks him.

 

He’s so gorgeous. Louis feels light-headed looking at him, watching how amazing his looks as he loses himself in it. Normally, Louis’ mouth would be running right now, his feet propped up on the bed as he fucks Harry hard and fast and Harry bounces, spluttering his name as his cock gets wet. But Louis’ throat feels tight with how much he loves him, watching him drip into his space as his Daddy fucks him.

 

Instead he stops, watching as Harry’s eyes spring open worriedly and he’s drawn back from floating off, probably still hovering but he a look of concern crosses his features. Because normally when Louis stops he would whine and beg, but this is different, and Louis stops because if he’s going to fuck Harry practically in front of near two-thousand people, he’s going to do it right.

 

‘Want to stop?’ Harry asks, even though he was probably close to dropping if his slow, near slurred speech is anything to go by.

 

Louis shakes his head as Harry’s hands go to rest on his tummy again and he sits still, waiting for Louis to say something. Louis lets go of his hips and instead reaches for Harry’s hands, linking their fingers and bring them up to his face, kissing over the backs of Harry’s hands so that a private smile spreads over Harry’s lips.

 

He unlaces their fingers, holding Harry’s palms up so he can press kisses to the centre of them.

 

‘I love you.’ Harry says then, and Louis kisses his palm again to tell him the same.

 

‘Would it be alright if I picked up the camera?’ Louis asks, and Harry’s brow furrows. ‘I want to film you as I fuck you.’

 

Harry looks slightly confused, but he nods, lifting himself off Louis’ cock before he comes to rest on the bed on the other side of him.

 

Louis gets up and advances towards the camera, untwisting it from it’s tripod as Harry watches him fondly, albeit slightly confused.

 

Louis knows there’s lots of ways he could do this, could film Harry bouncing on his cock as blush colours his chest, could even get him to turn around and film how his cock spreads him and Harry takes his thick girth. Or he could roll Harry on his side, fitting behind him and fucking him so that the camera catches how pretty he looks. Get him on all fours and film how he fucks himself back, or maybe do that thing where he sits up with Harry’s lying down. Harry has been getting close to doing the splits from all his yoga, and Louis loves bending him and spreading him however he likes.

 

If he’s going to fuck Harry for near-two-thousand people to see, he wants them to see Harry like he does, he wants them to see Harry and how gorgeous he looks when he reacts, his cock leaking onto his belly as he flushes and thrashes, body tight and mouth open.

 

He sits back down on the bed, and he loves how Harry knows to get back into his lap, straddling him and sinking onto him straight away, Louis holding the camera steady on his chest as he fiddles with the zoom to where Harry sinks down on him.

 

Harry’s his baby, his little darling, who leans over once Louis buried inside him to grip the corner of a pillow and tug it closer before he can get it under Louis’ head so his neck isn’t so awkwardly bent to see the camera screen.

 

Harry rests his hands on his lower belly, fingers spread out so they cover over the whole area, and Louis thinks of last night, Harry curled up and facing him, tucked under his arm as he tried to make himself small. He’d drawn patterns on Louis’ chest and talked about tattoos, about how he finally has enough money from his camshows to maybe get a few now. He’d drawn all the things he wants tattooed on Louis’ skin, birds on his chest and a butterfly on his tummy, had rolled over to sit on top of him with the duvet around his hips as he’d pushed Louis’ arms up and had bitten into the soft skin of his inner arm, describing what he’d wanted, and Louis thought about his boy covered in pretty ink designs as he slid down his body, fingers stretching over his hips as he described his idea for fern leaves curling out over his hips, framing his cock, before he’d sucked Louis into his mouth.

 

Louis tilts the camera up and zooms out to film Harry’s head tipping back, his lungs and vocal chords working together to produce melodic whimpers and moans that come out garbled together, before he angles it back down, filming Harry’s thighs spread over his hips as he tries to keep his chest steady so he can reach down and spread his fingers over the soft part of his upper thighs as Harry bounces gently, just rocking enough that Louis’ cock rubs his prostate right.

 

His cock arches up against his tummy, pink and swollen, the head wet. Harry’s hands go to his hair briefly, pulling on it gently because he knows he shouldn’t touch, before they fall down to brace himself on Louis’ thighs behind himself, his rocking a bit harder so that he’s getting a bit more heads-on contact to his spot.

 

He whimpers so prettily, and Louis can’t help it when he reaches down for his cock, holding him just under his head and rubbing his thumb over the silky flesh of his tip, foreskin drawn back as he rubs over his slit before he dips his thumb in, more wet blurting out against his thumb.

 

He slides his hand a bit lower, so he can press his thumb to the sensitive little V under his head, rubbing in light circles and Harry shifts back and forth, keening as Louis teases his cock.

 

‘So gorgeous baby,’ Louis says, before he can stop himself, not really wanting his voice to take focus away from Harry in this. But Harry looks at him, mouth open and eyes hooded and he looks far gone and ready to come, and Louis knows he should at least say a bit more. ‘You’re so good for me baby, such a good boy for your Daddy.’

 

Harry keens at that and his nails bite into Louis thighs as he bounces harder on his cock. That’s when Louis picks up the camera, leaning back to get all of Harry in the shot, as he squirms desperately in his lap and his eyes close as his chest rumbles with a loud moan that cut into a whimper when Louis gives him three tight strokes.

 

He sets the camera down on the bed beside his head and leans over to bunch up the duvet beneath it to tilt it up to that it still can see all of Harry, before he reaches for his hips and plants his feet on the bed.

 

Harry’s hand instantly go to plant on his chest as he leans forward and Louis starts to fuck up into him, fucking the noises right out him.

 

‘Daddy,’ Harry whines, before he starts to repeat it, almost chanting it softly as Louis assumes he’s hit his prostate and starts to ram up into the same spot, Holding Harry still as he does.

 

Harry squeals, squirming with the need to touch his cock before he crumples onto Louis’ chest and Louis reaches his hands around to cup his arse, spreading him apart and fucking him hard as Harry buries his face into his shoulder. ‘Daddy,’ he breathes, over and over again, voice high and tight.

 

Louis brushes his fingers over his rim, fucking him as Harry drags his nails down his arms, hips rocking back on Louis’ thrusts and forward so that his cock rubs against Louis’ tummy, and normally Louis would scold him, but he doesn’t.

 

Harry digs his fingers in when Louis edges his index finger in alongside his cock, Harry gasping before he breathes out a loud, ‘Daddy, please,’

 

Louis draws his finger out and presses back with two. Harry chokes on his breath and turns his cheek against Louis’ neck, probably looking at the camera.

 

Louis fucks him hard, holding him tight as he rocks into him with his cock and his fingers.

 

He hears Harry’s breath stutter when he teases a third finger at Harry’s rim, but there’s a catch in his breathing as he weakly pants out a soft _Daddy_ when he presses his third finger and Louis knows he’s probably started crying.

 

His skin is tacky with sweat against his and Louis turns his head to press his lips against his ear. ‘Look at me baby.’

 

Harry pushes himself up with his forearms on either side of Louis’ head, eyes wet and mouth open as he rocks forward with Louis’ thrusts.

 

‘Daddy,’ he says again, and Louis thinks maybe it’s all he can say now as he leans up to kiss him, licking into his mouth with no resistance as Harry’s body pulls tight and he nears sobs when Louis nails his prostate, stretching him so wide. 

 

Louis knows he’s going to come, so he pulls back and kisses Harry’s pouted, swollen mouth a soft kiss. ‘Can you sit up for me little love?’

 

Harry nods, utters, ‘Yes Daddy,’ as response before he weakly pushes himself up. His face contorts in pleasure, but he makes no sound louder than a gasp, mouth hanging open and cheeks wet.

 

He knows Harry is waiting for him to tell him he can come, desperate for it.

 

Louis reaches to set the camera back on his chest, pulling his fingers out Harry and getting a wet shadow of a whimper as he rests his hands on his upper thighs again, thumbs circling over the smooth skin.

 

Harry’s mouth hangs open, chin tipped to look down as he rocks in his lap, back onto his cock, his own wet and flushed an angry red.

 

Louis waits until Harry’s looking at him again before he presses his thumbs into his thighs. ‘You can come baby.’

 

It only takes a moment before Harry’s coming, tummy pulling tight as he clenches around Louis and he comes, white bubbling from his slit before dripping down the length of his cock. Harry sobs, tummy quivering before Louis’ setting the camera beside him and pulling him down onto his chest, holding him tight as he fucks up into him, chasing his own relief.

 

He fucks up into Harry twice before he’s coming, hips snapping up into his arse as Harry clenches tight, almost painfully so, and milks it straight from him.

 

Louis takes a deep breath and presses his lips against Harry’s crown. ‘I love you, baby.’

 

Harry makes a nonsensical sound, but he thinks it’s Harry saying it back.

 

 

 

 

 

(They find out that when they’re sending a farewell video out to all of Harry’s paying subscribers, Harry even telling his non-paying viewers that they can actually buy the video if they want, that when the number of people is so high, that someone is sure to repost it.

 

But they both agree it’s kind of cool while they’re snuggled together and watching the repost, having a video of themselves reposted on a porn sight with near a million hits and some very interesting comments.

 

Harry gets shy when he starts crying in the video, and Louis cringes at his heavy breathing and how his voice sounds, while Harry points out how funny his cock looks when it bobs with Louis’ thrusts, but either way they both end up getting hard and the _polite_ comments are enough to boost their egos)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally over and writing this was pulling teeth and pushed my into the lovely bi-annual fit of self-doubt.
> 
> It's nothing like the original concept, but if you dig it that's great :) There's a very high chance I will post another camboy!au because this one just didn't hit it quite right and what I originally wanted ran far away from me and I wasn't able to catch it.
> 
> Also, my sincerest apologies for how long this took. 
> 
> And for those asking/wondering, I am still writing that omega au, I'm just taking great care and writing it slowly and carefully so I don't rush it and fuck it up like everything else ^.^
> 
> Feel free to come talk to me about Harry in lingerie and daddy kink on tumblr <3


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